


Dogs Allowed

by grimmfairy



Series: Dogs Allowed [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, And a place to hide, Barry just wants a burger, Barry learns to trust, Barry needs his service dog, But not the Rogues, Claustrophobia, Cleithrophobia, Digital Art, Hurt Barry, Irwin loves Len off-duty, Irwin the service dog, It gets better I promise, Kidnapping, Len learns to love, Len used to be a thief, Lewis Snart was a terrible person, Lisa is a waitress/bartender, M/M, Mick is the cook, PTSD Barry, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Service Dogs, Some people are assholes about service dogs, Stalking, The Rogues is the name of Len's bar, barry is scared of the dark, bartender Len, fear of restraints, he is not a vigilante, in the past, mentions of Oliver Queen - Freeform, protective Len
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can I help you?" Barry asked politely. The man looked at Irwin pointedly. Irwin stared back, the overhead lighting glinting off the reflective edges of his service harness.</p><p>"Dogs aren't allowed," He sneered. Barry felt the familiar pull of an attack start to build on his already frayed nerves.</p><p>*Now with added fanart*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Artwork of Barry and Irwin](http://grimm-fairy.tumblr.com/post/145974257655/art-for-my-fic-dogs-allowed-drawn-beautifully-by)

_"You're a cop," The bartender said, slamming the glass he had been cleaning down on the bar. Barry had forgotten to take off his CCPD landyard before he left work, something the bartender had immediately seen when Lisa brought Barry up for introductions._

_Barry jumped, his breath stuttering in his chest. He hadn't seen this man here before. Usually he came in during his lunch break, this was his first dinner visit to the bar restaurant. He had already talked to Lisa, his favorite waitress, and Mick the cook had made sure to meet the man that insisted his burgers where the best in Central City. It was hard to tell with the hulk of a man, but Barry was pretty sure Mick preened a little when he managed to stammer out a compliment._

_"Um-"  
_

_"Checking up on the criminals? I don't need this from you," The man continued. The scary Lisa stood behind him and scolded the bartender._

_"Lenny, chill. He's my best tipper!"_

_"He likes my cooking," Mick grunted from where he had stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Leave the runt alone, boss."_

_"He's a cop!" He, Lenny, replied. Barry took a deep breath._

_"I'm not a cop, I'm a CSI," Barry cut Lenny off before he could talk, earning a giggle from Lisa. "And no, I'm not checking up on you. I don't know anything about you, I just want to go somewhere where nobody has any preformed expectations of what I'm supposed to be like. Is that too much to ask?!"_

_Barry hadn't realized he was almost shouting until the other patrons started murmuring after going silent. A small whine came from his feet. Lenny's face contorted in confusion._

* * *

 

Barry walked slowly into Rogues, the bar he had been frequenting more and more over the last few months after the big reveal that he worked for the cops. This time Iris had asked if she and Eddie could meet him there and see what was so special about the place that got Barry to spend his free time away from his apartment. She had seemed far too interested in asking about who he interacted with, and Eddie had promised to behave. He was, as always, running about fifteen minutes late and already completely dreading the time he would spend as a third wheel. Iris and Eddie always tried to make him feel included and he didn't always feel like he was intruding. But tonight he felt wrong. His skin felt tight and he was too hot, even in the AC of the bar.

Len, the bartender, looked up from the drink he was mixing to give a small nod to him, and Barry felt a blush rise on his cheeks. Len had the most piercing eyes Barry had ever had the pleasure of staring at awkwardly from a distance. For the number of times Barry had been to Rogues, he and Len had exchanged the fewest words, even Mick talked to him more if only to tease the skinny guy who was eating two burgers a night. Not that Barry necessarily minded. Len made him feel calm, a nice change from his sometimes overwhelmingly fast thoughts and Len never asked about his past. 

At his feet, his five-year-old service dog stood patiently while Barry surveyed the tables and booths searching for Iris. Irwin, so named for his mixed Australian shepherd and Australian cattle dog heritage, had been with Barry for almost two years, the only solution that seemed to work for Barry's increasing anxiety. It had started to interfere with his work and Joe couldn't bear to watch his foster son suffer and possibly lose his job. Irwin was allowed in the station and stayed in a specific corner of Barry's lab unless Barry needed him to pull him out of an attack. Being the foster son of a cop and beloved by many of the older detectives, Barry knew the law down to the letter regarding service dogs and their rights.

He didn't see Iris or Eddie anywhere, and as he pulled out his phone to call it buzzed with a text. 

**Iris: Sorry we're late, eddie got called in when we were halfway there, had to turn around and drop him off. It's just me and u**

**Iris: Be there in fifteen minutes**

**Iris: Sorry**

Barry replied with a smiley face and put his phone away. He looked back at the bar and saw that Len had a large group of customers ordering drinks so he took a seat at his favorite booth near the bar. Irwin laid down on the floor right next to his chair and observed the room. Lisa Snart, co-owner and Len's sister, sauntered over and set a water bottle down on the table with an orange soda. Barry pulled a small collapsible bowl from his messenger bag and set it on the ground to fill with the water. Irwin happily began to drink. 

"On the house for my favorite patron," Lisa smiled innocently. "The soda however is a dollar fifty."

Barry smiled at the familiar joke. Lisa Snart placed the same water and orange soda on his table with the same joke every time he came in. Barry wasn't sure why Lisa had taken him under her wing as a friend. She had been wary at first of having a cop in her brother's bar until Barry pointed out he wasn't really a cop and he didn't really care about Len's past. Len had warmed considerably after that rather pointed discussion. 

"Is Mick here tonight?" Barry asked softly. Lisa grinned and nodded, noting the way Barry's face lit up. "I told my sister that he makes the best burgers in the city. She doesn't believe me."

"Big Belly Burger hold-out?"

"Yeah," Barry checked his watch. "She should be here any minute. Do you want to meet her?"

"Sweetie, I wouldn't miss it," Lisa ruffled his hair and walked away to check on the other tables. It was still early enough that there were quite a few people ordering dinner instead of bar hopping. Irwin, having finished his water, was once again laying quietly at his feet. Barry pulled out his phone to mess around on he internet when he heard someone clear their throat. He ignored it, assuming it wasn't directed towards him until it happened again. He looked up, right into the face of a man who looked like he would be more comfortable in a Benz than a bar.

"Can I help you?" Barry asked politely. The man looked at Irwin pointedly. Irwin stared back, the overhead lighting glinting off the reflective edges of his service harness.

"Dogs aren't allowed," He sneered. Barry felt the familiar pull of an attack start to build on his already frayed nerves.

"He's a service dog," Barry replied evenly. "He's allowed anywhere I am."

"He's a filthy animal. People are eating here. Get rid of that mutt," The man pointed at Irwin. "Now."

"I-I have a right-" Barry was having a harder time controlling his voice. He had never been confronted so openly by a stranger, and in a place where he usually felt safe.

"I-I-I, what's wrong with you?" The man mocked. Barry felt his face flush hot. "You're not even blind."

"Well _you're_ about to be," Lisa spoke from behind him. Barry relaxed minutely. He was going to be okay. "Sir, please return to your table."

"I'm not spending a dime here if that dog stays," The man said triumphantly, folding his arms in front of him. From the looks of his watch, clothing logos and shoes, he was a man used to getting his way.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Lisa replied with a syrupy-sweet smile. He didn't seem to get the message.

"Look here, bitch-"

"That's no way to talk to a lady," A voice drawled. Len had come out from behind the bar. He flipped his towel over his shoulder and stood protectively in-between Lisa and the man. It wouldn't do to have his sister arrested for murder. In public. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to decide why Barry needs Irwin. Backstory and whatnot and how dark/sad/vague to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr aesthetic](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com/post/145992202421/i-made-a-thing-for-grimm-fairys-fic-dogs)

Len was not the sort of man you bring home to meet the parents. He knew that, and until he met Barry he never let it bother him. His love life was more like a series of one night stands that had become fewer and far between after Len opened the Rogues. In his defense, his contacts from his old life were mostly criminals and the near-constant observation from cops after his parole made it hard to connect with another person.

Then Barry walked in, all shy smiles and soft words, but not a pushover if his outburst after the confrontation was anything to go by. His dog implied a troubled past, and Len resisted the urge to find out why in the face of the CCPD employee's willingness to look the other way. Few people ever stuck around after hearing Len's history, and he wasn't in a hurry to see Barry run away. 

So here he was.

Stalemate.

He poured the same orange soda, gave the same short greeting, and avoided Lisa and Mick's pointed suggestions that Barry seemed lonely each time the CSI showed up. He could only assume that the CCPD would soon send another goon to "check up" on his affairs like the one that showed up on opening day. Irwin, Barry's faithful companion, was quiet and calm and never made a mess beyond the hair that he seemed to shed at an alarming rate, and Len knew Barry's rights. He tended to attract seedier types past a certain hour, so a service dog and his shy owner weren't any problem. He tried not to pry into anyone's business.

That didn't mean people could be assholes in his bar.

"That's no way to talk to a lady," Len drawled, showing his own indifference. Lisa was more than a match for this idiot, and Hartley, the young tech genius working as a busboy to pay for school, was ducking into the kitchen. Mick was about to make an appearance, and if Rolex-man wanted to live, he should probably leave before then.

"I am a paying customer!" Rolex-man cried incredulously, his alcohol-stained breath washing over him. "And I will not allow some mutt-"

"His name is Irwin," Len interrupted.  Barry was breathing heavily behind him, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Irwin was sitting up nudging Barry's hand gently. "And you haven't paid for anything yet. I am exercising my right as owner to refuse you service if you don't return to your table now."

"Do you know who I am?" The man spat. "I could have the police here and this dive bar shut down before you can pour another drink."

"Go ahead and call the cops," Len shot back. "I'd love to report your harassment and violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act."

Rolex-man spluttered indignantly for a few seconds before stalking away, only to bounce painfully off the wall of muscle that was Mick. Mick flashed him a feral grin and retreated back to the kitchen.

"You alright, kid?" Len turned to address Barry. Barry looked shaken, but his tremors were dying back down. Like always, Len couldn't pin down what color his eyes were. Tonight they seemed almost gray, though it may have been the lighting. Barry looked like a deer in headlights.

"S-s-sorry," Barry stuttered, then blushed scarlet. "I-I get a little n-nervous-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Len replied, holding up his hand to stop Barry from continuing. "People can be assholes. Anything you want is on the house tonight."

"Ooh, Lenny, that's so sweet," Lisa cooed. If possible, Barry seemed to blush even redder but a smile graced his young features. "You want me to sit with you til your sister gets here?"

'N-no, that's okay," Barry said shyly, patting Irwin on the head. Len watched Barry lick his lips nervously, then shook himself out of his trance. Barry might not even be into men, and he was shaken and emotional, not to mention affiliated with the cops. And possibly young enough to be his son. Barry never ordered alcohol, so Len had never seen his ID. 

"Alright. Wave if you need anything, kid," Len said as he turned back to the bar.

"I'm twenty-six, you know..." Barry muttered. Len snickered, earning  surprised glance from Lisa. He turned back to Barry.

"Exactly how old do you think I am?"

"Um..." Barry stalled, unsure if Len was being serious. "Mid-thirties?"

"You flatter me kid," Len chuckled. "I'm forty-three."

"Whaaaat?" Barry perked up. "No way. What's your secret? Is it diet? Or exercise? Or genetics? What face lotion do you use?"

Lisa's peals of laughter sounded from the booth next to his where Lisa had been apologizing for the earlier commotion. Barry averted his gaze away from Len's sparkling blue eyes, unable to believe the words that came out of his mouth. Len walked back to his station behind the bar, a smile playing on the edge of his mouth. Apparently he was aging well, something he never would have guessed.

A young black woman pushed though the doors and glanced around quickly. She locked gazes with  Barry and waved excitedly. Barry waved back and the woman started walking to his table. At that moment, Rolex-man overtook the young lady and made a beeline for Barry. Len was rooted to the spot, overcome with dread as the man grabbed Barry's still mostly-full orange soda and tossed it on him. Lisa dropped her tray and Len felt his blood boil. Then Barry was up out of his seat, hauled up by the man's hands gripping the front of his shirt. He didn't get a chance to shout at Barry as the young black woman grabbed his hands and pried them away. Irwin was whining and barking, and then he was trying desperately to distract Barry by licking his hand. Barry collapsed on the ground and curled up with his arms around his knees, Irwin trying to tuck his snout into the small space to lick Barry's face. Lisa was looking murderous, and Mick was out of the kitchen and yanking the man away before Len could react.

It all happened so fast.

"Hartley, call 911," Len barked harshly as he strode out from behind the bar. Mick looked like he was considering dipping the man's head into one of the fryers and Lisa looked hard-pressed to stop him.

"Barry, it's Iris," The young woman that had approached Barry was murmuring to him. Other patrons were watching openly and covertly, phones out in some cases. Barry was still curled up, but he had allowed Irwin into his space and was hugging the dog to his body and sobbing hysterically into his fur. Lisa now looked torn between murdering the man that made Barry cry and kidnapping Barry to coddle him until he felt better. Mick was still grinning his feral I'm-going-to-make-you-regret-your-life smile, easily restraining the drunk businessman. It was a terrifying sight.

"Len, the cops..." Lisa sighed. Len was not good at talking to cops. He tended to react poorly to authority figures. Len shot her a hard look and settled his gaze back on Barry.

"Barry, can you hear me?" Iris was still talking in a soothing tone. "I need to know you can hear me, sweetie. Can you nod?"

It took a few more attempts, but Iris got her foster-brother to nod twice. 

"Okay, the police were called and I texted dad. Joe's coming," Iris soothed. "Can I touch you?"

That got a violent head shake.

"Okay, I won't," Iris looked at Len, assessing him with shrewd eyes. Len felt strangely naked in her sight. "Do you have somewhere more private to wait?"

"I live upstairs," Len answered softly, mimicking Iris's energy. Even Mick looked surprised now. No one outside Len's circle ever went upstairs. 

"Barry, do you want to go upstairs?" Iris asked, still not touching him. Barry raised red watery eyes from where they were buried in Irwin's soft black and blueish fur. He looked at Len, who tried to look reassuring. "Len said we can wait there."

Lisa was subduing other customers and glaring at those audacious enough to film Barry's attack. Hartley was standing awkwardly to the side, waiting for a task. Mick hauled his prisoner to the other side of the restaurant and shoved him down into a chair. He growled something Len was too far away to hear, but judging by the look of shit-your-pants-fear in the man's eyes and the fire dancing in Mick's, he was better off not knowing. Ever.

"You can bring Irwin. And borrow some clothes, if you like?" Len blurted, noticing the way Barry was plucking at the wet fabric without seeming to realize he was doing it. 

"P-p-please..." Barry whispered, looking down again. Len wanted to hide him away. 

"Do you want to go upstairs? Irwin can come," Iris maintained her soothing tone. Barry nodded. "Do you want Len to come with?"

Barry whispered yes, and lifted his face fully. The service vest was wrinkled and lopsided now. Irwin gave him a final lick and leaned protectively against Barry's legs as he stood shakily, leash forgotten. Iris smiled softly at him and followed behind as Len led them through the kitchen and up the stairs. Irwin's nailed clicked on the kitchen tiles and wooden stairs, leash trailing behind him, never losing contact with Barry's legs. Len watch in amazement as Irwin herded Barry to his sofa with his nose and nudged him until he sat down. Iris turned on every light she could find, something Len filed away for later. Iris sent him to get clothes ("Nothing binding or complicated, just warm.") and sat next to Barry, maintaining distance. She once again began reassuring Barry that everything was okay and Joe was on his way.

Barry didn't notice much about his surroundings at first, not until Len was standing in front of him with a sheepish look and a small pile of clothes in his hands. The sweatpants and sweatshirt were worn soft with age, but they were clean and loose. Barry reached out shaking hands for them, dropping them almost immediately. Stammered apologies flowed from him like water, even as Irwin picked up each article gently and placed them in Barry's lap. 

"Can i touch you, Bear?" Iris asked again. Barry nodded, and Iris took his hand. "I'll help you change?"

Barry nodded jerkily.

"Would you like some...tea? I have tea, or cocoa...?" Len asked uncertainly. He just needed an excuse to leave. He knew Barry would be embarrassed enough that Len saw him in this state with Len watching him change. Iris mouthed "cocoa" to him and Len left the main room to go to the kitchen area, allowing some form of privacy. As the water boiled, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on his stairs, then a new masculine voice. He finished making cocoa for himself, Iris, Barry, and the newcomer. When he entered the main room, he was faced with the sight of a man with broad shoulders, streaks of grey hair, and a definite resemblance to Iris sitting on his couch. 

Joe.

"Snart?" Joe asked, his voice tight. Of course Joe West was the Joe that Iris was talking about. Iris had left, but she hadn't gone far.

"Detective," Len replied politely. Joe scrutinized him. He hadn't seen Len in many years, the result of raising two children alone and climbing the ranks from beat cop to detective. 

"Thank you," Joe said finally, the tension lifting from the room almost immediately. Barry was leaning into Joe, Len's sweatpants tied tightly around his narrow waist and his shirt hanging loosely off his frame. Len assumed that another officer was downstairs interviewing witnesses.

"I hope you're arresting that guy," Len said, deflecting his gratitude. He wasn't used to cops using such a respectful tone with him. Joe's face hardened momentarily before smoothing out.

"I don't think we had a choice," He answered wearily. "Your...associates looked like they might take justice into their own hands."

"Do you need to take my statement, sir?"

"At some point," Joe affirmed. "Now, is that hot chocolate?"

Len nodded. Joe turned to Barry, who was sitting cross-legged and stroking Irwin's head where he sat on the ground.

"Bear, would you like some?"

Barry nodded, refusing to look at Len as the panic faded and shame flooded in. Len approached slowly and handed the mugs to his guests. Barry held his with one hand, the other tangled in Irwin's fur.

"He can be on the furniture, if you want," Len said after the silence stretched on for too long. Barry patted his leg, and Irwin jumped delicately onto the sofa where Iris had been sitting. He laid his head down on Barry's lap and licked gently at Barry's ankle where  the pants had ridden up. Len could already see streaks of fur from Irwin shedding, but the relaxed look on Barry's face was worth it.

"I'm sorry you saw that," Barry sighed after he drained half of his drink. Joe squeezed his shoulder. Len wasn't sure how to respond. 

"I never knew Irwin could do so much," Len redirected. That made Barry smile. 

"He was abandoned at a kill shelter when his trainer found him as a puppy," Barry scratched Irwin's ear. "Joe had actually brought me to the facility to meet a poodle, but when I saw Irwin I knew I needed him."

"He sheds enough to knit a sweater," Joe muttered. Barry huffed a laugh, and Len smiled. Barry seemed stable now, if still a little off. His eyes scanned the room on a loop, and his fingers tapped out a rapid pattern on the ceramic mug.

"I'd like to go home with you, Joe, if that's okay?" Barry asked, suddenly exhausted. His stomach growled loudly. "I didn't eat."

"If you want, I can have Mick make you a burger to go," Len offered. He didn't do takeout, but this was special. This was Barry.

"I'd like that," Barry addressed him directly, his red-rimmed eyes no longer filled with fear, just exhaustion. His stomach growled again. Better make it two, Len decided.

"I'll be downstairs if you need anything," Len said as he stood to talk to Mick. "You can leave the mugs in the sink. I'll take care of it."

Later, after Mick had stuffed two styrofoam to-go boxes with burgers and fries, Len was giving his statement to an officer named Eddie. Lisa had already given hers and was running the restaurant, which was rapidly emptying. Barry and Joe emerged with Irwin and said their goodbyes, which culminated  in a surprise hug from Barry. Len barely had time to lift his arms before Barry let go and rushed out the door with his food and his dog. Joe thanked him again and followed.

"Len?" 

He turned to face Iris.

"Not exactly the night you had in mind, Miss West?"

"Not at all..." Iris shifted nervously, then visibly steeled herself. "Would it be alright with you if I wrote a story about this place and your excellent policy towards service dogs? I don't want you to lose business."

"I would talk to Barry first, but I don't see why not," Len answered. That was not what he was expecting.

"Thanks, for everything, not just tonight," Iris sighed. "He's been so much happier, and calmer. And now I see why."

"He's a good man," Len shrugged, his cheeks turning pink. He again felt naked in Iris's gaze.

"That he is. But so are you."

Iris said her goodbyes after getting both Snarts' phone numbers.

"So. When's the wedding?" Lisa popped up behind him. Len shoved her lightly.

"Shut up."

"I want to be best man."

"Shut up Mick!"

* * *

 

Barry showered at Joe's house and put Len's clothes back on after a moment of hesitation. He told himself it was because he liked the smell of Len' detergent. Joe noticed immediately. Normally he would warn his son to stay away.

But Leonard Snart might be exactly what his foster son needed.


	3. Chapter 3

Barry woke from a fitful sleep the next morning to the tickle of fur on his face. The nights after his episodes were always hard. He squinted his eyes against the glare of sunlight streaming in through his window and forgot for a moment how monumentally disastrous the night before had been. Then his childhood bedroom came into focus and he remembered.

The soda. The flashback. 

Crying.

Panicking. Claws of fear in his chest. 

In front of his new  friends.

In front of Len. Who had made him hot chocolate and lent him clothes. Which he was still wearing.

Barry sat up, rubbing at his eyes and bemoaning his luck. Of course it wasn't enough that he was so much younger. He had to have an episode in front of the man he wanted so badly to impress. No, impress wasn't right. He just...wanted to get to know Len. He wanted to know why Len was so wary of cops, but not him. Why he seemed uninterested in speaking with his customers past light pleasantries, but had obviously spent time researching service dogs and the ADA. What his favorite show was, what kind of movies he liked, where he learned how mix drinks.

He could never face him again.

He had to face him again because he wasn't going to go through life afraid.

"What should I do?" He asked Irwin, scratching behind the dog's ears. Irwin stared adoringly at him, his tail wagging slowly. Without his vest, there was little to distinguish him from a regular dog. It was only when the vest was on that Irwin laser-focused on Barry and ignored all others.

"Barry?" Iris called from outside his door. "Are you awake? Dad made pancakes."

Barry sighed and rolled out of bed. A headache was building, supplemented by a distinct lack of coffee. He opened his door and faced the expected forced cheer of his family. He knew they meant well, and he appreciated the fact that Joe made his mom's pancakes for him and called him in sick from work for the day. But the way they acted like he was made of glass after he had an attack was sometimes overwhelming. Irwin took advantage of his off-duty time and was cuddling up to Iris's legs where she sat at the kitchen table. She stroked him gently, cooing praises and slipping him a bite of pancake. 

"So, what do you actually know about Leonard Snart?" Joe asked  suddenly. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, standard posture for interrogating his children. Barry shrugged. Joe needed to make more coffee, he realized randomly.

"He owns Rogues. His sister is a waitress and he tends to hire servers that could double as bouncers," Barry said, still sounding subdued. "He doesn't really trust the police in our first meeting is anything to go by."

"He has good reason not to," Joe sighed. "His past...You were just a kid, but-"

"Look, I don't really want to talk about this right now. Len hasn't pried about my past, and I don't want to go behind his back," Barry hung his head, focusing on his pancakes. "He's earned that much. And he helped me."

 

"Dad, you didn't see the way they reacted in the moment. I don't think there's anywhere in the city where Barry would be safer," Iris said, standing next to Barry. "Seriously. It was almost scary."

Joe tried not to think too hard about that, especially Mick Rory. Now there was a questionable character. 

"I think I'll have someone check the place out-"

"Why? Because they aren't your pre-approved babysitters?" Barry snapped suddenly, his temper flaring. "I know you think I'm too damaged to notice the way everyone spies on me."

"Dad wouldn't do that, would you?" Iris looked expectantly at him. Joe didn't answer. "Seriously? Dad, come on!"

Barry just ate his pancakes, avoiding everyone's eyes as Iris took her father aside and ripped into him verbally. Irwin nudged his leg gently, then more firmly until Barry snaked a hand to pet him. Of all the changes Barry had gone through, the anger was one he could live without. He had been holding out a meager hope that he was just being paranoid, that Joe actually saw him as an adult, not a damaged kid. This morning was rapidly spiraling out of control and Joe knew it was his fault. He'd have to give Barry a little time to cool off, then they had things to discuss.

"I'm sorry you're upset, Barry," Joe apologized. "But I'm not sorry for what I've done. I need to know that my kids are safe. That _you_ are safe."

"I know." Barry sighed. The rest of breakfast passed in silence, except for the occasional click of Irwin's nails on the floor. Iris volunteered to drive Barry back to his apartment when it became clear that he wanted to leave. Once they were in the car, Iris turned on him.

"So I asked Len if I could write about his bar and talk about his defense of service dogs," Iris said casually, not even looking away from the road. The tension from earlier hadn't dissipated yet, and Barry remained sullenly silent. Irwin was sitting calmly in the backseat watching his human. "He said I should talk to you first."

"It's his bar, it doesn't matter what I think," Barry groused. His headache was growing and his patience was shrinking. Iris sighed.

"It obviously matters to him," Iris pointed out, waiting for a response. When all she received was silence, she decided to lay another card on the table. "I put Len's number in your phone. You should call him, ask when you can drop off his clothes."

Barry nodded absently, as if just remembering that he had packed them into a bag to wash.

Iris dropped him off after his assurances that he was fine and Barry climbed the single flight of steps to his two bedroom apartment. It was rent-controlled and in a safe neighborhood, which was why Joe had reluctantly let him return after a year of living at home. As soon as the door closed, Barry removed his jacket and placed the bag containing Len's clothes on his kitchen counter. Irwin padded around the apartment turning on the light switches he could reach then sat by the door and waited for Barry to set the security alarm before loping off to eat. Barry needed coffee before he even thought about doing his laundry. Irwin had grabbed one of his half-chewed bones and was lying in his dog bed gnawing contentedly on it. After setting his coffee maker to make a pot, Barry checked his watch. It was only ten in the morning.

As Barry sipped his coffee and read some news on his laptop, he was struck by a craving for something sweet. Baking always made him feel better, baking and Netflix. He mentally ran through his pantry and determined that he had plenty of ingredients to make mint chocolate chunk cookies and an entire day off. His washing machine beeped just as Barry finished mixing the first few ingredients, reminding Barry that maybe during restaurant hours wasn't the best time to drop off a bag of sweatpants. Or to see the one person he had never wanted to show weakness to. Barry sighed and pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure if he would be able to face any of the Rogues staff again, but he at least had to talk to Len.

He scrolled through his contacts looking for Len, Leonard, then  he paused. "Lover Boy" was listed as a contact. Before he could think too hard about who he was calling, he pressed the call button.

* * *

 

 

Len scrubbed the bar. He was pretty sure more alcohol had been spilled than drank by his late night customers. It was always the tough-guys that couldn't hold their alcohol. Len was also pointedly ignoring the way his sister sauntered in and sat on a barstool, watching him with a knowing smirk on her face. Mick was setting containers of sugar packers on the tables and taking down chairs in preparation for the lunch opening.

"So. I like the sign," She said finally, gesturing to the front door. In the window was a typed piece of paper with the words " **SERVICE DOGS EAT FREE".**

Len made a noncommittal noise and turned his back on her to rearrange some glasses. Barry's booth was still a little sticky he decided, so he went to wipe down the table again.

"Barry's going to like it."

Another grunt from Len. Mick, never one to miss an opportunity to mess with his boss, joined in. He was one of the few that could, might as well take advantage.

"I thought you said nobody in this life gets a free meal," Mick flicked a sugar packet at Len with deft accuracy, only for it to be caught by and pocketed. "Or has Captain Cold broken one of his own rules?"

Len stiffened briefly before flipping his cook the bird. Anyone else that brought up that name would have left with a broken nose, minimum. Mick of course still used his criminal moniker as a term of respect, and not a harbinger of fear. Lisa never called him that. She thought the name was stupid. 

"Lenny, that table has done nothing to deserve such harsh treatment. It's clean," Lisa teased, but her tone held a hint of concern. Len's hands stilled, rag still against the hard surface, all traces of soda erased. He took a deep breath and straightened up. An unspoken conversation flowed between them punctuated by changing facial expressions and aborted hand gestures, and Lisa nodded, satisfied that Len was in control.

"That twin-talk shit gives me the creeps," Mick grumbled, regardless of knowing the Snart siblings were far from twins. He may have been Len's partner in crime at one time, but he had thrown it away to follow him into the "real world". He didn't regret anything, except maybe the freedom to punch who he wanted when he wanted, but he still couldn't wrap his head around the strange communication between brother and sister. Len doesn't answer, but his eyes are amused.

Lisa looked up as the front door opened, ready to tell whomever it was that they opened in an hour when Len placed himself in front of her.

"What do you want, Mardon?" He sneered. Mick recognized that voice, that was his Captain Cold voice. Full of ice and promising pain. "I thought you were cooling your heels in Iron Heights."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Mark Mardon replied easily, his slightly gravelly voice implying a threat. Len sized him up slowly, unwilling to back down as Mark approached until he was standing right in front of him.

"No, that's how I greet someone that was warned to never show their face again," Len answered icily. "Get out."

"I have a job-"

"Not interested. Even if I was still in the game, you have proven your inability to follow the plan."

Lisa watched the way Len's shoulders tensed, his fingers twitching for a gun out of habit. She didn't know this particular contact of her brother's, but she didn't like the madness she saw in his eyes. Mick came up behind their intruder, not speaking but looming menacingly to make his intent clear.

"So you're really doing the straight-and-narrow thing, huh?" Mardon laughed tonelessly. "How long do you really think you can last before you crack?"

"Time to go," Mick growled, not liking the way Len's eyes had tightened. He was holding himself back and even their new CCPD friend wouldn't be able to help them when Len was done. Mardon let himself be led out out of the bar, whistling a tune and waving at them through the window as he left. Len took a few deep breathes to center himself before continuing to set up his restaurant. Mick had already stocked the kitchen, the tables were ready, and everything was clean. The first shift of daytime staff would be showing up soon, mostly teenage servers and a few culinary school graduates trying to get some experience. Mick had scared them into behaving, but Len knew he had fun showing them "how to make real food, not that fancy shit". Len usually retreated upstairs to sleep until five after staying up all night bar-tending, closing up, and waking early to clean.

His phone started to buzz in his pocket, and the unknown number flashed on the screen.

"What?" Len snapped, still tense from the confrontation. There was silence on the other line for a moment before Barry's hesitant voice came through.

"Hi, Len. Um...Iris gave me your number?"

Len sighed, weight lifting from his shoulders. Lisa elbowed Mick and mouthed "Barry", to which Mick grumbled something about getting a room.

"That a question kid?" Len said finally, half-smiling at Barry's nervous giggle. "Feeling better, I take it."

"Yeah, um, thanks for, uh, asking," Barry answered immediately. "I have your clothes! Wait, sorry, that made me sound like a creeper, sorry."

Len chuckled, and walked back into the kitchen for some privacy from his sister's intentionally obvious attempts to eavesdrop. Barry rambled for awhile about needing to finish his laundry and how he wasn't sure when to bring them back because he didn't want to disturb him at work but he didn't want  Len to think he was trying to keep them or  forgetful.

"...which I sort of am forgetful but-no, Irwin, no, ew stop that-sorry, he's trying to hand me a rawhide, which gross, he's been chewing on it-"

"Barry, slow down. Breathe," Len interrupted. "You can bring them here or I can come to you, if you want."

"Oh, well I don't want you to go out of your way..." Barry trailed off. "How about I bring them over after I finish baking cookies?"

"You're...baking cookies?" Len couldn't help the smile. 

"Yeah. It's how I relax," Barry defended himself. "I will have you know I make great cookies."

"I'm sure you do," Len could hear rustling as Barry moved around. "Just come when you're ready."

"Will do," Barry chirped. Yes, chirped, Len thought to himself. He could picture Barry's blush at the unintentional innuendo. "Can I...I mean, I understand if you don't want Irwin in your place anymore. But I can be quick?"

"Don't worry about it, just text me when you get here." 

"Oh, okay. Bye then!" Then he hung up before Len could answer. Len smiled to himself and put his phone in his pocket. Barry sounded more like himself, awkward and rambling over his words instead of tear-stained and stuttering. What was he doing? Len wasn't sure. Barry was...something.

"So when's lover boy coming over?" Lisa asked, poking her head into the kitchen. Len ignored her in favor of trying to go upstairs, which his dear sister must have taken as an invitation to follow him. She had a determined set to her eyes which that she was worried about something and wouldn't be stopped until they talked. Len decided to just get it over with.

"What do you want?" Len sat down on his couch. "I need to rest up for tonight."

"Detective Joe West. _That_ Detective Joe West?" Lisa emphasized. Len glared at her. She knew full well who he was. "I know you like Barry."

Len remained silent. It wasn't hard to see that he liked Barry. He was smart, funny, gorgeous, and never seemed like he felt as out of place in their midst as he really was. Lisa had warmed up to him, even Mick was as fond of Barry as Len had ever seen. 

"You need to be prepared for the possibility that Barry knows your past," Lisa cautioned, hating the way she could almost physically see Len's walls slam into place. 

"Barry wouldn't dig. We have an...understanding."

"Not an official one. And do you really think that a detective is going to let his son hang around here without telling him?" Lisa pointed out, hating that she had to be the one to point this out. Len, for his part, had one very important question.

"Son?"

"Yeah, foster son. Barry's parents died when he was a kid and he said his dad's detective friend took him in and raised him as his own," Lisa explained impatiently. Len was redirecting, and she needed to get her point across. "I have to assume that Joe West, father of his 'sister' Iris West, is his detective foster father. Len, maybe you should brace yourself for the possibility that Barry will have some questions you won't want to answer."

"I'll have to wait an see then, won't I sis?" Len said dismissively, but his mind was racing. "I don't like having Mardon in my backyard planning something."

"I could try to find out what he's planning," Lisa offered, accepting that they were done talking about Barry. For now.

"Stay out of it. But if he comes back we'll figure something out."

Len didn't get his nap. His mind was too busy thinking about greenish eyes filled with warmth and shy smiles turning into distrust and, worse, fear.

* * *

Mick was a simple creature in some aspects. He liked his coffee black, his women busty, and his kitchen clean. When Len had first walked in on him cooking dinner for the crew they were on all those years ago it was the first time he had ever seen plain shock on the other man's face. He may have been a criminal, an orphanage kid, and a pyro, but he took pride in his cooking. It was all he had left of his mother, the list of recipes he had memorized as a small child as he helped her in the kitchen.

In another life, maybe he could have been a chef.

However, it was the little things that could endear someone to Mick. Grand gestures held little meaning to him. He didn't like  owing favors. Len had earned his trust and then friendship through many years with small things: coffee in the morning, taste-testing his many experiments without complaint (or coddling), joining in on bar fights. The little things.

Barry Allen had just cemented his place in Mick's circle of people that mattered to him. He complimented his cooking without being a kiss-ass, listened to Lisa's gossip with interest, helped Hartley with a scholarship application, never snapped at the staff, and didn't take any crap from Len. He could respect that. He also didn't seem curious about why Len had almost kicked him out for being a cop, which was interesting. And now this.

"I can give you the recipe, if you want?" Barry said softly, still blushing. Mick had taken one minty chocolate cookie and crudely proclaimed it better than most of his one night stands. Lisa grabbed the tray she was supposed to bring to a table of four after she stopped laughing at the manic glee in Mick's eyes.

"Boss is upstairs," Mick pointed behind him. He snagged a few more cookies as Barry walked past. The dog had sat patiently at Barry's feet, not moving around or shedding that much. A quick sweep would take care of it.

* * *

Len heard the door open before he saw Barry. He stood from his couch, shaking off the doze he had fallen into in front the Nexflix playing on his TV, and went to greet his guest. He half-expected Barry to flinch away when he reached for the plastic bag that presumably held his clothes, having worked himself up into a state of panic over Barry knowing who he had been. Instead he was met with same mixture of shyness and affability that seemed to be Barry's default setting. His eyes were drawn to a plate with foil over it when Barry shoved it forward.

"I brought you some cookies!"

"I see that," Len smiled and took the plate. He set it on the counter and removed the foil. A faint whiff of chocolate and mint floated up and he had a sudden thought about what it would be like to kiss Barry after he had eaten one. He grabbed a cookie and took a bite to distract himself. 

Oh good god it was better than most of the sex Len had ever had. He blushed faintly at his thought, just grateful he didn't say it out loud. In his defense, it had been a long time since anyone baked him cookies. He turned to talk to Barry only to find his staring at the television, which was still playing. Len froze, unsure of how to react to the shock on Barry's face.

"Are you...is that...?" Barry stifled a laugh and looked at Len. "You were watching Firefly?"

"Problem?" Len asked defensively. Barry just held up his hands, leash coiled around one. 

"No, not at all," Barry gestured at the screen. "We may have had to discuss our friendship if you didn't like Firefly."

"Friendship?" Len blurted, then winced internally as Barry's smile faltered. Of course the kid would assume Len didn't want to be friends. He barely ever spoke to the kid. It was hard enough to hide his attraction watching him groan over Mick's food and blush at Lisa's attentions. "Want to stay and watch with me?"

Barry seemed to brighten at the offer, but he still seemed guarded.

"I don't want to intrude..."

"You could never intrude."

And it was the truth. Barry grinned, a real grin full of excitement.

"Yeah, sure. But, is it okay if I take Irwin's vest off? He's really well-behaved even without it, and I don't think he needs to be on high alert while I'm here," Barry patted Irwin's head, who kept his eyes trained on his master. Something warm bloomed in Len's chest at the request, the implication that Barry felt safe enough to do that in Len's company. A small dark part of his mind supplied  _He wouldn't if he knew who you really are._ Len promptly told that part of him to shut up.

"Sure, go ahead," Len agreed.

Barry knelt to remove the vest, then whistled. Irwin shook out his fur, making Barry wince at the fur that fell into the air, and made a beeline for Len. Len, having little experience with dogs, gave him an awkward ear scratch before the dog started sniffing around the small apartment. As the two men settled on the couch, each unsure as to how close they should sit together, Irwin tired of his mission and returned to lay at Barry's feet for a nap. It was the first time Barry had hung out with someone that didn't know about what had happened. It was...nice.

They watched in companionable if slightly awkward silence for an episode. By then, Barry couldn't stop himself from talking.

"I really liked the sign," He observed. Len stiffened beside him. He had forgotten about the sign he had made in a momentary rush of anger at the man that had the audacity to shout at someone in his own bar.

"I mean it."

"I know. You don't strike me as someone that says things they don't mean," Barry shrugged, a blush on his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry that happened to you here. I want you to know that you and Irwin are always welcome," Len promised. "I wasn't sure you'd ever want to come back."

"I like it here," Barry admitted. "You...and Mick and Lisa....but especially you, you see me for who I am. Dog and all."

"I've never known you any other way," Len pointed out as he reached for a cookie where they sat on the coffee table. Barry's eyes flicked to the strip of skin exposed by Len's t-shirt as it rode up. Interesting, Len thought. They sat in silence (and a little closer) for awhile longer.

"Why don't you ask about Irwin?" Barry asked, his voice a bit too loud. Irwin cracked open an eye, then went back to dozing. "Most people do."

"Why haven't you asked Joe about me?" Len replied quickly. "I know he's offered."

"How do you know I haven't?" Barry challenged. Len observed him closely, noticing the tension in his hands where they had fisted into the upholstery. 

"Because if you had, you wouldn't want to be around me," Len explained, his voice tight. He didn't want to scare Barry away, and he hated ruining the relaxed atmosphere they had going with Firefly. Barry looked at his hands, clearly deep in thought. A new episode started and Len forced himself to watch. 

"I've never known you any other way," Barry parroted. Len stayed perfectly still. "I don't know what you've done, or what's been done to you, but I know this. You make me feel safe. And I never feel safe. Not in my apartment, not with Joe and Iris, not at work. I _know_   intellectually that I'm safe with my family and my colleagues, but I don't _feel_ safe. And I know this is...a lot, to place on your shoulders. But there's nothing you can tell me that will make me feel differently."

Len was silent. The air in the room suddenly heavy with unsaid words, and the ghosts of both their pasts floated over them. Barry seemed to crumble next to him and he slowly stood. He reached out a hand and placed it on Barry's wrist without grabbing. Barry closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes.

"Stay."

The word slipped out of Len's mouth before he thought it.

Barry swallowed hard and nodded. He sat back down next to Len and shifted so that they were close, but not quite touching.

"Ok."

* * *

Mardon watched the Allen boy walk into Rogues from his post across the street. He certainly hadn't expected this destination when followed Barry from his apartment, nor had he expected the dog. That was going to complicate things. Mardon made a mental note to look into why he needed it.

Snart had a past with the good Detective West too. He would have much to gain from revenge as well. It was worth a second visit, if only to warn the rag-tag group of former thieves to stay out of his way.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes Joe wished there was a manual for parenting. Of course it probably wouldn't have included the sections he really needed, like how do deal with a daughter that wanted to be a cop or a traumatized genius foster son. He was at this moment still licking his metaphorical wounds from Iris's tongue-lashing that morning. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time to ask people to keep an eye on Barry when he started to go out in public alone again. With Irwin, of course. As much as Joe wanted Barry to be happy, he was nervous about Barry hanging out around Rogues.

Joe knew he had taken a huge risk with Barry Allen. He had known the boy since birth, and his parents long before then. He had been made Barry's godfather, and Iris was born just months after. His idyllic life had only lasted a few years, coming to an end the night he came home from work to find his wife strung out on the couch. He had picked up his daughter from the Allen's house when Francine didn't show up for Iris after kindergarten. Henry assured him that it was no trouble and little Barry had been ecstatic at the prospect of an unscheduled play date after kindergarten, but Joe knew this was his breaking point. He knew Francine had been slipping, lying to him and taking money now and again, but he didn't want to break up his family. He wanted Iris to grow up with both parents.

But nothing in life is fair.

Then, when Iris and Barry were nine, Joe got a phonecall.

Barry was bruised and stitched up when Joe burst into his hospital room. He had looked so lost, so alone, and so very frightened at the questions being asked by the social worker. Joe was shocked to find that he was listed as Barry's guardian if something happened to the Allens, and Barry had looked so defeated when the social worker left them alone to talk for awhile. He spoke to Barry, who begged to go home with him, and Iris who wanted Barry to smile again. As a single father with a hazardous job already raising a child after being left by a drug-addict wife, he wasn't the ideal choice in this social worker's eyes and she let him know it.  He geared up for a fight.

Barry came home with him after a stay in foster care during which Joe had to prove he would be a fit caretaker for two children while being a police officer. By the time he got Barry back, something had changed  about his godson. He had panic attacks, night terrors, and often went through spells where he wouldn't talk to anyone or eat anything. He was especially angry at Joe for abandoning him. Joe tried not to push and rode out the storms, and eventually Barry started to get better. He was still different, but he was okay. He tested into college level courses in eight grade and began the process of graduating high school early. Joe liked to think nobody cheered louder than he and Iris at graduation.

His family was whole again.

Then Barry was...hurt. And again Joe had to see his child bruised and bloodied and begging for Joe to just take him home.

Joe shook himself out of his memories and focused on his paper. Of course, the fact that he had alienated both of his children in less than an hour was not putting him in a great mood. He decided to call Barry over for dinner. It was time to do a little groveling. 

* * *

 Len felt a little creepy watching Barry sleep, but at the same time it was too mesmerizing to look away. Barry's face was smooth and relaxed, his mouth just barely open as he breathed deep and easy. He had started nodding off after another hour, and Len wasn't surprised. Barry's eyes had shadows under them and the resigned energy of someone that needed a nap but wanted to power through their day.

The best part was the way Barry's head was resting gently on Len's shoulder. He had leaned over thirty minutes ago, already mostly asleep, and nuzzled Len's shirt every now and then. Len checked his phone, and with annoyance realized he needed to get ready for work. Barry blinked sleepily when Len gently shook him.

"I have to go to work," Len half-whispered, not quite able to resist brushing his fingers through Barry's hair. Barry seemed to wake up a little more, but blinked sleepily at him. "You can...stay and sleep a little longer if you want."

Barry allowed Len to lay him down on the couch's arm and pulled his feet up to lay horizontal. He mumbled something about an hour and Len smiled at him. He grabbed a black fleece blanket and draped it over him. 

"Len?" Barry mumbled. Len paused. "Don't turn off the lights."

Len nodded, and waited for Barry to fall deeper into sleep before leaving. Irwin watched him back away from the couch before hopping up to lay at Barry's feet. Len gave a half-hearted sigh at the thought of the fur on his sofa but gave him a quick pat on the head anyways. 

"Take care of him," Len muttered. He was talking to a dog. What was wrong with him? He wrote Barry a short note and headed to his bathroom for a quick shower. When he emerged clean and dressed, Barry had shifted slightly to cuddle with the blanket. Len gently lifted Barry's head and placed his only bed pillow under it. Then he headed downstairs. Lisa stopped him in the kitchen for a a quick interrogation, ignoring the cooks and allowing Mick to eavesdrop. 

"So where's our little friend? I haven't seen him come down yet," Lisa flicked her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly, but Len knew she was just playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse. Waiting to strike.

"He's sleeping," Len answered cooly. Mick choked on a laugh behind him. "We were watching tv and he fell asleep."

"Ooh, Netflix and chill?" Lisa chortled.

She grabbed the tray Mick had just finished arranging plates on and left before Len could work up a good anger. Mick went back to his stack of orders, not one to abandon his post just to ask his boss about his love life. He didn't really need to know. Len steeled himself (a.k.a. waited for his blush to fade) before pushing his way through the doors to take his post as bartender. A new hire, Shawna, was his bar back/extra bartender tonight. His place had been busy enough to need a bar back since it opened, something that made him proud. Shawna was nice, smart, and quick on her feet, which made sense as she told him during her brief on-site interview the week before. She had been charged with assault for breaking her boyfriend's nose when he tried to hit her, but the charges only garnered a slap on the wrist. He had to wonder how he managed to keep so many employees with criminal records and not get shut down by the cops. He saw Hartley approach and lean over the bar with a concerned look on his face.

"Mr. Snart, there's some guy here that wants to talk to you?" Hartley jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the back of the bar where it was a little less well-lit. 

"What did he want?" Len asked cautiously. He didn't recognize the man, but he knew a mob enforcer when he saw one. Just a glorified mercenary in his opinion. Hartley shifted on his feet nervously.

"He kept..." Hartley looked over his shoulder before leaning closer. "He kept asking about Barry and if he was here. I told him I haven't seen him today."

Len's face hardened into a stony expression reserved for people who were in danger of angering him. He motioned for Shawna to take over and made his way slowly to the table. A quick hand signal to Lisa alerted her to potential trouble and she ducked into the kitchen to presumably get Mick. The man in question was sitting alone wearing dark colors but his rolled up sleeves revealed a variety of tattoos detailing his affiliations and prison terms. 

"The infamous Leonard Snart," The man said with an oily voice when Len sat down in front of him. "I need to speak with you."

"Did Mark Mardon send you?" Len asked shortly, cutting off whatever else the man was going to say. "I thought I made myself clear this morning that I have no interest in what he has to say."

"You may want to reconsider. It involves the illustrious Detective Joseph West."

"Who are you?" Len snapped. He didn't like the way the man was looking at him, like he was prey.

"Name's Nimbus," The man answered. "You see, we all have history with the good detective and now we have the opportunity to get a little revenge."

"I don't do revenge," Len sneered. "Too many variables. Things can get...messy. Collateral damage is unavoidable."

"Ah yes, Captain Cold's rules," Nimbus leaned back, seemingly relaxed but Len recognized the readiness to strike. "If you won't join us, stay out of our way."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Len stood and crossed his arms over his chest, registering Mick's presence come up behind him. "Stay away from my bar and the Wests."

"Problem, boss?" Mick's gravelly voice asked. His eyes were alight with the promise of a potential fight. Len shook his head.

"He was just leaving."

Nimbus just smiled and stood to leave. He had to maneuver around Mick, who refused to budge, and as he made his way to the front doors. Len followed to be sure he left. Just as the doors were closing behind Nimbus, Len glimpsed Mardon standing across the street. Mardon waved, then turned and disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians. Len let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and returned to his post behind the bar. Mick gave him a questioning look but Len shook his head. Len pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to Iris West. He needed to speak with her father, privately.

"Hart, I need a favor," Len pulled Hartley aside. The graduate student nodded, not questioning his boss. "Are you still friends with any hackers? I need information."

* * *

Barry woke up to sound of muffled conversation and classic rock from downstairs. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he sat up and Irwin crawled into lap to beg for an ear scratch. He smiled at his dog and obliged, jostled by Irwin's leg as it kicked. He checked his phone and saw that it was around six o'clock, and Joe had called him two times and left several texts. Iris had also tried to call him, and Barry felt a little guilty for turning his phone to silent to watch Firelfy with Len. He hit the voicemail button and listened to Joe's first message. Joe didn't say much beyond asking Barry to come back to the house to talk. Barry wasn't sure how to feel about that. He didn't necessarily want to avoid Joe, he just wasn't in the mood for Joe's apologies mixed with rationalizations.

His phone beeped for a new text and Barry groaned. He sent Joe a text to apologize for not answering and told him he'd call when he got back to his apartment. Barry took the time to actually observe the room and noticed that while there were few personal touches visible, everything was tidy and spotlessly clean. A few dvds were stacked under the TV and a paperback novel was on the table next to loveseat that sat perpendicular to the  sofa. A hallway led to what Barry assumed was the bedroom, and then he spied the note Len had left him. He stood and buckled Irwin's vest back on so he could leave and catch the next subway. He felt oddly calm and centered, even with Joe's voicemail, and he couldn't stop that smile that graced his features at remembering how he spent the afternoon.

The bar was busy with the first wave of the dinner rush, men in suits with loosened ties and young couples grabbing a bite to eat mingling together. Barry stepped one foot in the kitchen and a large hand clamped firmly (but not painfully) onto his shoulder. Barry flinched, heart rate speeding up until he saw it was Mick. Mick removed his hand quickly, not commenting on Barry's reaction though he noticed, and waved him over to a corner. 

"Boss wants to talk to you before you leave," The large man informed him. 

"Oh," Was all Barry could manage. He tightened his grip on Irwin's lead and walked out into the restaurant area. Len zeroed in on him immediately, his icy blue eyes surprisingly warm. A woman was working with him that Barry hadn't met yet, and Len said something to her before coming out to meet Barry.

"What's going on?"

"I think we should until we're in private, preferably with a detective present," Len hesitated. "I don't know how much I should tell you."

"You know what I hate?" Barry asked suddenly, his voice tight. Len sighed, recognizing the emotion in Barry's now-downcast eyes.

"People only telling you what _they_ think you need to know without regard to how it makes you feel?" Len answered, gratified to see the look of surprise on Barry's face. "You hate having people make  decisions about what's best for you because they don't think you can handle the whole truth. That you need their protection, that you're weak."

Barry nodded, his eyes expressing something close to relief that Len understood.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" Len searched Barry's face, looking for the tell-tale signs of lies or doubt. "Is there really nothing I can say to make you...to change the way you see me?"

Barry nodded. 

"We'll talk in the car. Lisa won't mind if we borrow her ride," Len decided, standing up. Barry followed him out, Irwin walking by his side. 

Time to test the kid's faith in him.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Joseph West."_

_Joe paused, his spine stiff and his instincts taking over. He had his gun out and in front of him with textbook precision._

_"You know I'm a cop, right? Breaking into my home and then announcing yourself isn't exactly smart," Joe said, turning to face the man seated in the armchair in his living room. He had close-shaved hair, and the tell-tale rings around his eyes that indicated a broken nose. It hadn't been there the last time Leo Snart rolled through the precinct on suspicion of theft. He was well-known among the criminal underworld, but he left no evidence behind at crime scenes that could be used to convict him._

_"I need your help."_

_"You need **my** help?" Joe asked incredulously. He hadn't even cracked a "big" case yet and here he was, facing down a member of the fast growing crime organization that was terrorizing Central City. Leo just shrugged, though the white-knuckle grip he had on the arms of the chair betrayed his true demeanor. _

_"I need someone i can trust," Leo stood, and Joe took a step back. Leo held up his hands in surrender, then winced, clutching at his ribs. "You turned in your fist partner to internal affairs when you caught him stealing evidence. Why?"_

_"Because he was cop, we're supposed to uphold the law," Joe said warily, taking a step towards the criminal. He looked like he was about to pass out, his face gray and tight. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"_

_"No, my father would find out. He has moles in the-the-," Leo took a shuddering breath, and passed out. Joe reached for his phone, then paused. Leo had come to him for a reason, and he was pretty certain the end of Leo's last sentence was going to be "cops"._

The memory of the first time he met Len was old, but clear enough in his mind. Joe checked his phone. Still no call from Barry or Iris. He sighed, dejected and worried about Barry. It was second nature now to worry about his foster son. There was a time not that long ago that he wouldn't have been too concerned by Barry's radio silence. He often hyper-focused on classes and research in college, leading to long stretches of silence until either he or Iris burst into his apartment with pizza and a salad to make him eat. 

He sighed.

Barry hadn't even looked betrayed, just resigned to the way Joe treated him, that Joe wondered again if he had really done the right thing. Iris wouldn't call him back either, maintaining the West tradition of the cold shoulder. He was just trying to help.

 

As Joe continued to brood in a very non-teenage way, sipping coffee (Iris would laugh at the amount of coffee he had drank already) and staring at the case file in front of him. Leonard Snart's bruised face stared back at him, younger and angrier, but still recognizable. The the doorbell rang and Joe gave a little smile. Barry must have forgotten his keys. It happened more often than not, and he was notorious for letting his phone die. Joe stood and approached the door, chuckling to himself. Some things never changed. He opened the door, a smile on his face.

"You have got to get better-" Joe stopped, his body frozen. In front of him was his captain holding Irwin's leash, the dog's ears and tail drooping sadly.

"Joe, Barry has been taken."

* * *

 

Everything was too loud, too painful, too much. Barry squinted his eyes against the light shining into his eyes, fighting against the nausea that was rising in his throat. A low moan sounded from his right side, and Barry hoped that it was Len, even though the thought of Len being kidnapped with him was terrifying. 

"Well, well, look who's coming around," A smug voice said. Barry groaned and tried to move his hands to bat the light away, and found they were bound in front of his body by the wrists. Fear seized his body, closing his throat and welling up behind his eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, boy," The voice said, and strong hands grabbed onto Barry's shoulders, shaking him. "Stop it!"

"You idiot, stop touching him!" Len's enraged yell filled the air. Barry turned towards the sound, still blinking from the light that had been shone directly in his eyes. "Let him go! He's having a panic attack."

"Well make him stop!"

Barry could just make out Len's face through the black spots in his vision, but he could envision the look of annoyed concern on his face. 

"Uncuff my hands and I'll help him!" Len growled, pulling at the handcuffs that restrained his hands behind his back. He recognized the man in front of him. Kyle Nimbus. The man looked at him like he was crazy.

"You'll have to do it like that," Nimbus said, throwing Barry bodily at Len. Len swore at the man, then turned to Barry. The younger man was struggling to his knees, trying to get his legs under him. Barry's fingers flexed uncontrollably, unconsciously seeking out Irwin. The thought of his loyal dog calmed him slightly for a moment before it became apparent that the dog was no where near. He couldn't control his breathing, and his hands were bound. Tears streamed down his face as he gasped for air, struggled against the petrifying terror. Len tried to talk to him, to get him to look at him, focus on something, but Barry was too far gone and Len was way out of his depth. He had no idea what to do, and his hands were literally tied.

Barry tried to breathe, but without his dog, without Iris or Joe, he couldn't focus. Everything went black. 

Len wasn't sure how long it took Barry to come back to consciousness, but it felt like hours. He managed to nudge Barry into a semblance of the recovery pose and waited. Barry stirred, groaning as the headache took over. He felt the bile rising and laid very still, hoping it would pass. His eyes felt crusty and his head was pounding, but he saw Len staring at him from where he sat close by against the wall. Barry shakily crawled to Len, and placed his head in Lens lap, just wanting the contact. It took several more minutes for him to hear Lens voice speaking calmly to him. It was soothing, the constant reassurances that he was okay, they were alive. It was going to be okay, just breathe.

"Barry, can you hear me?" Len asked again, waiting for any acknowledgement. Barry managed to nod, curling closer to his only source of comfort. Len wished he could run his fingers through Barry's hair, soothe him through touch, but he didn't have anything within reach to pick the handcuff with. Barry's cuffed hands came up to wrap around Len's leg, his fingers curling in the fabric of Len's pants.

"Wh-wh-what h-happened?" Barry rasped. Len situated himself more comfortably.

"I wasn't paying attention. I didn't think they'd make their move so soon after trying to recruit me," Len said. He was ashamed at his lack of foresight. "They grabbed us at the car. Hit you in the back of the head, tried to put you in the back of the van, I tried to stop them. I don't remember what happened after that, but they must have taken me too."

"I-Irwin?" Barry sniffled, tears still drying on his face from his attack.

"Ran off, I don't think they went after him," Len said, hoping that was true. He didn't think two career criminals with a timetable would bother chasing down a dog. Barry managed a small smile.

"He's trained to find help if something happens to me. He looks for cops," Barry sighed. "If he got away, Joe will find out what happened to me soon."

Len was silent, though he did hope his trust in a dog was warranted. Every hour counted when abduction was thrown in the mix. This is why he never did abduction. Things got messy. Barry had his eyes closed but he was still awake, his breathing a little too fast and his grip a little too tight. Len knew that waking up from passing out could be disorienting, and sometimes painful. He was just glad that Barry hadn't thrown up, not that he would have judged him for it. He took in their surroundings, noting the heavy door that locked from the inside and outside, the industrial lighting and flooring. It was a walk-in freezer, but since he wasn't freezing, it wasn't set to a very cold temperature. Just cool enough to be annoying. 

"Are you okay?" Barry asked. Len looked down at him, a teasing smirk on his face to hide his worry.

"You're asking me if I'm okay? Kid, you have bigger problems," Len chuckled. Barry cracked an eye open to look at him briefly, the judgement clear on his face before the bright light go the better of him and he closed it. "I'm fine, kid. I'm just trying to figure out what their plan is."

"Is this...is this okay?" Barry asked hesitantly, squeezing Len's leg. He didn't want to make Len uncomfortable, but his first instinct after passing out was to grab onto someone and cuddle. He just needed reassurance that he wasn't alone. He trusted Len. Len nodded, trying for a comforting look. Barry looked wrecked, and scared.

"Yeah, kid. That's fine, take your time."

* * *

"I'm telling you, something is wrong with the Allen kid. He couldn't breathe," Nimbus said. Mardon shrugged.

"Why should i care?"

"If he dies-"

"Again, why should I care?" Mardon snapped.

Nimbus glared at him. He hadn't sighed up for this. Oh, he had killed people in the past, sure. But that was for money, for his boss, it was planned and executed with purpose. This was supposed to be a way to get Joe alone, to get Joe into Mardon's clutches. Sure, the kid would get roughed up a bit, smacked around, but he wasn't supposed to die. He had done his research into the Allen kid. He was the golden boy of the police station, the poster child for moving past trauma. If he died, there was no place in the country where he'd be safe and no one would hire him because of the heat. And then of course there was the added variable of the disgraced Snart, the man who toppled the city's biggest organized crime boss.

He told Mardon not to bring the man. Just kill him or leave him, but don't bring him along. They hadn't planned for the extra person. It would have been easier to just grab the girl. But no, Mardon wanted the pleasure of breaking the Allen kid after Joe spent so much time building him back up. He was a vindictive bastard, and Nimbus could respect that. He didn't like it, but he respected it.

"Everything is fine," Mardon said dismissively. "I have Allen, Snart is restrained, and soon phase two will begin. You want out, now is the time to leave."

"I don't break contracts," Nimbus spat, still glaring. He was going to regret this, he could already tell.

"Then do your job. Get the kid ready for his close up when the time comes," Mardon threw the video camera at him. "I need to make a few phone calls."

* * *

"You never did tell me what you wanted to say in the car, you know, because we never actually made it to the car," Barry had sat up a few minutes ago to lean into Len's shoulder with their backs to the metal wall. Len shifted irritably. The angle of his shoulders, while bearable, was still making it impossible for him to get comfortable. 

"I was going to tell you about Mardon and the danger you were in, but that seems redundant at this point," Len said, his voice laced with sarcasm. 

"Well, yeah, but...it kind of seemed like there was something else you wanted to say."

Len stiffened. 

"I mean, you don't have to, if you don't want to," Barry said quickly, shifting slightly as if to move away. Len moved with him, encouraging him to stay.

"I'm guessing it's obvious that I have a past I'm not fond of talking about," Len replied. He felt Barry shrug, their arms rubbing together. "I wasn't always this person."

"I kind of figured that."

"I was only five when my father took me on my first job. He needed a reason to be in the security office of a bank. He made me go inside and tell them I was lost, and when he came to collect me, he watched the code they punched into the keypad to open the door. He needed access to the cameras for a heist. After that..." Len clenched his fists. "It took many years but I rose to infamy as the best thief in the business. My rules kept me out of jail and minimized collateral damage. I could steal anything for a price, given enough time and equipment, the right team. I was ruthless, merciless to point of cruelty. I was dubbed Captain Cold by a young engineer I was hired to steal from and the unfortunate name stuck."

Barry couldn't help the snort of amusement at the nickname. Len nudged him, a smile playing his lips as well.

"Yeah, yeah, it was a standing joke," Len shrugged, losing the lightness of the moment. "But I had to be ruthless, Lisa was counting on me. She was still young, and my father agreed that if I kept up the family business, made enough money to pay for his gambling and booze, he'd leave Lisa alone and only take his anger out on me. I had to be the best, demand the most money, because I needed my share of the payouts to feed her, buy her clothes, pay for her ice skating lessons. My father certainly wasn't going to."

"I'm sorry," Barry murmured. The deep sense of dread at what Len meant by his father's anger was settling in. "Your father...he, he hit you?"

"Among other things," Len answered. "Mick saved my life once when he went too far. Stepped between my body and my father's belt and threatened him with a blow torch."

"Where did he get a blowtorch?" Barry asked, the randomness of the story forcing the question. Len turned his head so Barry could see the smirk.

"He always has a blowtorch on hand," Len said. "I got him a culinary one when I opened Rogues."

"So that's how you met Mick?" Barry asked when Len didn't continue. "I mean, I always kind of guessed he had a weird history."

"I met him the first time I went to juvie. Got pinched during a job because my father was terrible at planning and I took the fall," Len said. "He saved me from some bigger kids when they pulled a shiv on me. He said he heard I had sticky fingers and he wanted his lighter back from the guards."

"So friendship at first sight?"

"Hell no," Len laughed. "We hated each other. It was a partnership born of necessity, not friendship. When he got out, I made him a deal and he became my muscle. I needed someone that wasn't in debt to the main crime lords. We still hated each other, but we had an understanding, and nobody else wanted to to work with him for...reasons. It was when he caught my father in the act that he started to warm up to me."

"I would imagine it made him see you as a person, not an asset," Barry said thoughtfully. "So why aren't you-"

The door banged open and Mardon stepped inside. Barry froze, tendrils of fear working in his muscles.

"Bartholomew Allen. I thought you'd be...taller," Mardon stood over them. "It's time to let your guardian know you're alive."

Len struggled to stand as Barry was dragged to his feet. Mardon gave him a disdainful glance and backhanded him, sending the older man sprawling backwards. Barry struggled against him, but stilled when Mardon pulled out a gun and placed it to his temple.

"I would prefer to keep you alive," Mardon said. "But it's not totally necessary."

"You hurt him and I'll kill you," Len growled. Mardon smirked.

"I very much doubt that."

* * *

_Leo came to resting on a bed, but it was most definitely not a hospital bed._

_"I see you're finally awake," Joe West was sitting next to him. "You have three cracked ribs, a broken nose, a mild concussion, and I'm guessing more bruises hidden under you clothes. Not to mention the shallow STAB WOUND in you side. I put some butterflies on it, but you need a hospital."_

_"I've had worse," Leo groaned as he sat up. He was shirtless, and his ribs were bandaged with relative skill. He looked around._

_"Your bedroom? Buy me dinner first, officer."_

_"Do you want to tell me why you're here? Why you need my help?" Joe asked tersely. He didn't think his boss would appreciate him not calling for backup. Leo studied him for a moment._

_"Is there anyone one you can trust? A senior officer? A detective?" Leo asked. Joe narrowed his eyes. "You'll need back up for this."_

_"For what?"_

_"I want out, but I can't just leave. I'm taking my sister with me, and I can't be on the run for the rest of my life."_

_Joe thought about this for a moment._

_"Where is she?"_

_"Somewhere safe. I had to hide her. Lewis is..." Leo coughed, clutching his side. "He's not happy with her."_

_"Why?"_

_"He promised a night with her to one of his contacts in exchange for a spot on a big job," Leo spat, his eyes pained. Joe didn't know if it was from his ribs or his story. "She's only sixteen. She said no, he tried to persuade her physically and I intervened. We have a place to go when he's bad."_

_It was no secret that Captain Cold had a sister. And it was certainly no secret that she was fiercely guarded by her older brother. They were twelve years apart in age and from different mothers, but Lisa was the one thing Leo seemed to care about. Iris and Barry were only just eleven, and Joe could only imagine how he'd feel if his family was threatened._

_"I can help you bring down my father, his bosses, their bosses, I can help you bring it all down. But I need to know that you'll take care of me in the end," Leo said, his voice quiet and resigned. "I know I won't get off scott-free, but I can't spend my life in jail. I have to be there for her."_

_"There's one detective I know can be trusted. David Singh," Joe said finally. "He's a transfer, a bit of a hard-ass but he's fair and he's clean."_

_"I know of him. The first openly homosexual detective in Central City," Leo nodded. "If you say he can be trusted then I'll trust him. But if you cross me-"_

_"Don't threaten me!" Joe snapped. Leo almost looked...hurt._

_"I was going to say, if I feel like you're trying to railroad me, I'll take my chances on the run."_

* * *

Joe was pacing. Iris was seated on the sofa with Irwin laying dejectedly across her lap. The Aussie mix had been mopey and sad since Singh was handed the lead at the station. The officer that found the dog had recognized him instantly, but by the time he followed Irwin back to the scene of the abduction, they were long gone. Officers talked and planned and schemed in his kitchen where a makeshift control center was being erected and a computer specialist had been flown in to try and trace any signs of the abductors or Barry and Len. Any other day, Joe would have been a gracious host to the powerful man standing before him, but his mind was elsewhere.

Oliver Queen, the famous billionaire, was in their living room. Iris would have loved to meet him any other day. But the fact that he was willing to supply the equipment and computer specialist, a pretty blonde woman, was enough to make Iris want to cry. His fiance was the daughter of a detective in Star City, which was how he had heard about Barry. Singh had called Detective Lance for advice, and he in turn had called Oliver who flew in on a private jet with all the equipment they needed.

"Dad, please," Iris said. "We'll figure something out. There's no way you're going to give into their demands. We'll find Barry."

Joe stopped wearing a path in his carpet long enough to look at his daughter. He remembered their argument from that morning. Actually, it would have been the day before as it was long past midnight by now.

"Mr. Queen, thank you for all your help," Joe said, turning to the billionaire. "You don't have to stay, I know you've booked a hotel room in town."

Queen's handshake was surprisingly firm for a party boy. Though Joe had to admit to himself that the days of salacious stories from the Queen family were few and far between these days.

"Miss Smoak will stay here and help with the efforts to find your son," He promised. Miss Smoak was absorbed in her computer, speaking animatedly with the CCPD computer analyst and working with him doggedly. "If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask. Barry once came to my father-in-law's aid in a case involving the Dollmaker. He's got all of Star City's police department calling their contacts for information."

There was a heavy pounding on the front door. An officer opened the door and there was an audible gasp at the visitor.

"Rory?" Joe said, pushing through the group of officers surrounding the large man. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw the video," Mick growled. The internet was buzzing over the clip of Barry Allen, bruised and tearful, reading a letter condemning his foster father's actions regarding Mark Mardon's younger brother.

"We're doing everything we can," Singh said. He didn't like having a known pyromaniac so close. Mick scowled at the officers that had taken a step closer.

"Well I know something you might not," He said to Joe. "Mardon isn't working alone."

"We know that," Joe said, beckoning Mick into his house. Mick smirked at the officers as he pushed past them. "We know that he can;t be working alone. Grabbing Barry-"

"And Len. He took Len too."

"Yes, grabbing them both is not a one man job," Joe agreed.

"I know who he's working with," Mick said, pulling out his cellphone where Lisa had downloaded some of the security footage from outside. "His name is Kyle Nimbus. He came to bar earlier, tried to intimidate Len into staying out of his way."

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that name please?" A feminine voice called. Mick turned and looked at the blonde behind the computer. Singh looked concerned. He knew that man. Ruthless, cold, murderer. That was Kyle Nimbus.

"With all due respect," Mick said to Joe, quiet enough that only the detective could hear through the new buzz of conversation over Nimbus. "Mardon didn't have his face covered. You know what that means."

"Barry isn't supposed to make it out alive," Joe said softly.

* * *

Barry was once more laying with his head in Len's lap. Len closed his eyes, tuning out Mardon's continuing speech about revenge and justice and the law and on and on and on. He was tired of listening and Barry was hurting. He just wanted Mardon to leave them alone so he could think. He had been taken to a bathroom by Nimbus, and his cuffs had been released, but he was in no mood to try to escape without Barry. It would spell death for the younger man.

"Are you listening to me?" Mardon shouted. Len snapped his eyes open.

"No."

Mardon raised his hand, but seemed to think better of it and lowered it again, chuckling to himself. 

"Get some rest, Barry. You have another show tomorrow."

The door shut behind him with a metallic clang.

"You okay, kid?"

"I'm just a little bruised," Barry mumbled. It was a lie. He heard the rib crack under Mardon's boot, and he had undergone another panic attack. "Said it looked good on camera."

Len felt rage flare in his stomach. Barry couldn't even fight back or defend himself like this, and his body was stressed to the limit from having multiple attacks. He was exhausted.

"At least there are no cameras in here," Len commented. Barry smiled a small smile.

"I brought you something."

He opened his palm where it had been curled around Len's pant leg again. A single paperclip gleamed dully in his hand. Len grinned.

"Where did you get that?"

"You learned how to pickpockets, I learned close up magic. A little sleight of hand..." Barry coughed, grimacing at the dryness in his mouth. While he had been allowed to use the bathroom, he hadn't been given anything to drink. He was parched.

"Barry Allen, I could kiss you."

Barry cracked his eyes open and looked up at Len, taking in the slight blush on the man's face.

"Later."

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Mick may have been out of the game for many years, but he hadn't let the time make him soft. He still worked out, using a gym membership that he paid for with his salary from Rogues, and often sparred with various opponents that were brave enough to take him on. He knew he was getting up in years but he made up for it with brute strength and a fierce nature honed by years of hard living. When he offered to go on the war path, look in corners that the cops couldn't reach, talk to people they couldn't, use methods that the police couldn't directly use, Joe took him to see Singh. Singh had arranged an offer of leniency as long as nobody died or had permanent damage. It was all very secret agent, Mick thought. He didn't care, he was going to do it whether the police said he could or not. He would just rather not go to prison immediately afterwards.

He liked his job as a cook. He was good at it. It was something he could do that Len was absolute shit at. 

That didn't mean he wasn't still good at his job as Captain Cold's muscle.

He had learned early on that often a reputation was all it took to get information. Violence was messy, a last resort, and often counterproductive. He needed answers, not bodies. The remaining fragments of the criminal underworld, the low level thugs and criminals and snitches, heard Mick Rory was on the war path and they scrambled to get out of the way. The rats that he caught were all too willing to share any tidbits of gossip or rumors they had heard, all of which he fed back to the blonde computer lady. She was more than thrilled with each new fragment of data, as she called it. Her optimism was easy to catch. 

By the third day, after a bar fight and a few well-placed threats, Mick had a location.

* * *

 

Len remembered the first time he came home from school to find Lisa crying, her tiny hand failing to cover the bruise on her wrist. She was only six. Lewis had promised not to hurt her, not while _Leo_ kept up his end of the bargain. Something had cracked open inside him that day, something so raw and painful and  _betrayed_ that he couldn't breathe until he managed to "kiss it better" and take her for ice cream. Over the years, that cracked part of his heart festered, but like a mussel coats a grain of sand to make a pearl, Len coated his heart in armor. Layers upon layers wrapped around his heart, sealing that cracked, bleeding place, until he looked in the mirror one day and barely recognized himself. 

How he had managed to convince Barry that he was worth trusting, worth being around, was a bit a mystery to him. He supposed that maybe Barry had a broken place too.

They had been the freezer for two days, give or take a few hours. Len had hidden the paperclip on his person, though he knew it was only a small part of what they would need to escape. Barry had been taken out again, and returned with a black eye and a limp. Nimbus allowed Len to have his hands cuffed in front of his body now, mostly because he figured that with Barry as insurance Len wouldn't try to escape. The younger man was dozing next to him on the freezer floor with his cuffed hands stretched awkwardly in front of him. Len watched him sleep, remarking to himself how young the kid looked. As he watched, and the fluorescent lights hummed imperceptibly above them, Barry's wrists caught his eyes. The handcuff had pushed up his sleeves somewhat, exposing the pale skin. The too-pale skin.

Len knew was those scars were from. Pulling too hard for too long on handcuffs could rub the skin raw, draw blood, leave marks. This wasn't the first time Barry had been restrained against his will. He found himself yet again wondering what had happened to him, what had caused such trauma. 

"So...why Captain Cold?" Barry mumbled, opening his eyes to look up at Len. Len rolled his eyes.

"That's what you want to know more about?" Len teased gently. "I tell you I worked for a criminal organization for years and you want to know the story behind a nickname?"

"Well...yeah. You said you were the best. I doubt you would let a witness see your face and give you a nickname, right?" Barry asked, struggling into a sitting position again next to him. Len sighed.

"You aren't wrong. He never actually saw my face, just the aftermath of the liquid nitrogen I used to break into his impenetrable safe," Len explained. Tech geniuses always forgot to fortify the walls, which rendered any high tech lock useless. "I don't know where he came up with the Captain part. But it was the label that my file was given, and then it became my calling card."

"I see," Barry nodded. "It is kind of a cool name. Like a comic book villain."

"Figures you would say that," Len said with a huff of laughter. "Nerd."

"Hey! Nerds are cool now!"

"Just keep telling yourself that, kid," Len said dryly. Barry giggled and moved closer to Len until their shoulders were pressed against each other. "Cold?"

"A little," Barry admitted. He moved fractionally closer and laid his head on Len's shoulder. "Is this okay?"

"You don't have to keep asking me that," Len said. Barry shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each contemplating what they would say to the other if they could build up the courage to do so. Barry fell into a doze again, too on edge to really sleep and too tired to stay fully awake. Len took this chance to observe Barry's wrists up close. The sightly raised scar tissue was white, barely discernible from Barry's own pale skin, meaning it was probably over a year old. 

The scars explained why Barry had immediately panicked at the sensation of restraints, and why the low level panic seemed to buzz through him constantly. Len wondered if they were the only scars to decorate the younger man's body. His own skin bore the marks of abuse, of prison, and on occasion, Mick. Though in Mick's defense, a wound or two really had needed cauterizing. 

"I met your foster father a long time ago," Len said suddenly, if only to fill the silence and distract Barry for a little while. "I actually broke into your house to do it."

"He's never mentioned it," Barry replied eventually. He was glad for the distraction. He couldn't sleep, not really. Every time he slipped past the light doze into real sleep, his nightmares were there to greet him.

"He wouldn't. You were barely eleven at the time, and it was all very top secret," Len said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "I was in bad shape that night. He patched me up, listened to what I had to say, and then he helped me topple the criminal network my father had dragged me into."

"I knew Joe worked on a big case a long time ago, but no one really talks about it and a lot of the records are sealed. What happened?" Barry asked. He knew Joe had made a big bust a few years after taking him in, but the details were never released to the public. Too many public officials and higher ups were caught in the fallout, and that was all he learned from rumors. 

Len looked far away.

"I just wanted out."

Barry didn't push for more. 

* * *

Nimbus was getting increasingly impatient. Mardon was deviating from his set plan, toying with the West boy for no reason beyond sadism. It didn't really bother him morally, though the kid was as innocent looking as they came, but he was losing patience. It was becoming clear that Mardon was consumed by revenged, and he was losing control of the situation.

* * *

 

_"Please, no one has to get hurt," Barry said, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. The man took a menacing step forward, and Barry backed up, hitting the way with a dull thud. His phone was in his kit, and his kit was across the room next to the door._

_"You aren't supposed to be here!" The man screamed, tugging at his hair with the hand not holding the gun._

_"I'm just-just a CSI! You don't have to hurt me!" Barry cried, flinching away ineffectively as the man reached for him, wrapping a large hand around his throat. Dark spots danced in his vision and before he passed out, he heard a voice shouting and then a gunshot._

Barry started awake, heart beating wildly. Len was staring at him with his blue eyes betraying his concern. Barry sat up and placed his cuffed hands in his lap.

"Was I...talking?" Barry asked quietly. Len nodded. Barry sighed, twisting his fingers together as much as his bindings would allow.

"Something about not hurting you," Len said. Barry shivered.

"I was...I was a new CSI and I was still trying to prove myself. A few of the younger officers thought that I was getting special treatment being Joe's foster son," Barry said quietly. 

"You don't have to tell me, kid, if you don't want to," Len reminded him. Barry shook his head.

"You're here because of me. I want you to understand why I'm...why I'm like this," Barry said wearily. Len sighed and moved closer until their shoulders were touching again, and this seemed to calm Barry.

"You don't owe anybody anything, least of all me."

"I know," Barry said. "But I want...I want you to know. At least, this part."

Len nodded for him to continue, and Barry started his story.

"I wanted to check the scene of a robbery for anything i had missed, and the officer that went with me was supposed to be waiting outside," Barry shuddered. "I didn;t even hear the door open. The suspect came back to scene and found me in there collecting more evidence. He had a gun, and he threatened me with it. He kept saying that I wasn't supposed to be there, over and over. Then he ch-choked me, and right before I passed out he-"

Barry sucked in a breath, his shoulders hunching as he curled in on himself a little.

"The officer came back. He shot her..." Barry sniffled. His eyes stung, as they always did when he thought about this part.

_Barry woke to complete darkness. His eyes and mouth were covered by duct tape, and his hands and wrists were restrained. He struggled, knowing in his heart that it was futile, but his mind couldn't seem to accept it. He settled down, breathing through his nose and trying to focus. His head pounded, and his back was to one wall and his feet touched another. So it was a small space, and judging by the carpet under him and the sleeve that was hitting him in the face, he was locked in a closet somewhere._

 "He took me back to some hovel he called a house," Barry continued after a pause. "He kept me tied up in his closet, used the handcuffs he stole from the officer he shot. I was always kept in the dark, unless he wanted to  _talk._ It was like...he didn't know what to do with me. He would talk to me about what his life used to be like, before he had to steal. Then he would...he just  _snap_ and start yelling at me and throwing things at me and-and hitting me. I just...I couldn't get away and..."

Barry was starting to shake. Len reached his cuffed hands over to grasp Barry's forearm with one hand, the other hanging awkwardly. He was pretty sure he felt Barry lean into the touch. He let Barry catch his breath, squeezing his arm lightly to ground him.

"It's alright," Len said soothingly. It explained why he was afraid of the dark, of being restrained.

"I was there for...for over a month," Barry half-whispered. "Joe couldn't find me, Iris almost lost her job because she wouldn't stop chasing down long shots...even after they found me, I was still..."

Barry trailed off, looking for the right words.

"Trapped," Len supplied. Barry nodded, looking away. 

"I've had panic attacks since before that, but...it all became too much."

Len nodded, tugging Barry closer until the young man could rest his head on his shoulder. Barry snuggled in closer, his eyes drooping. He hadn't been able to string more than a couple hours of sleep together since he woke up in the freezer, and he was exhausted. But he felt a little safer with Len.

"This is really selfish, but I'm grateful I'm not alone," Barry mumbled, his body already going lax. Len didn't reply.

The paperclip was a cold presence in his sleeve. He was getting them out of there.


	7. Chapter 7

Leonard Snart was nothing if not brilliant at making the best plans from the worst situations.

Unknown factors: The layout of the streets around where they were being kept. How many weapons their captors possessed. 

Assets: One stolen paperclip, years of experience fighting men that were bigger and stronger, and the entire police force was looking them. 

Liabilities: Barry. Barry was injured, prone to panic attacks, and inexperienced in anything of this nature. Len had not been given enough food, water, or sleep to maintain peak performance. The offhand remark Mardon made about time running out.  
  


They always checked Len's pockets before they put him back in the freezer with Barry. He was well-renowned in the criminal world for his pick-pocketing skills and they didn't to take a chance on him getting a hold of a weapon. They never thought to check Barry, the skinny CSI, and Nimbus honestly tried to handle him as little as possible because he didn't like the way Barry looked at him. It was the look of someone that already knew what pain was, and had resigned himself to it. He never even struggled when Mardon was having his "fun". It was unnerving.

He didn't think Barry would be a problem.

That was his mistake.

When he opened the freezer door that morning to let Barry back inside after letting him use the bathroom (god the kid smelled, but Mardon was adamant that real showers were out of the question), he wasn't expecting for Barry to drop like dead weight. He hesitated, thinking for a moment that maybe it was a panic attack when something slammed into him. He only had time for one thought.

_How did he get out of the cuffs?_

He grappled with Snart for less than a minute, caught off guard and concussed from the tackle, even though Snart was weak from hunger. He reached for the gun on his waist only to find empty air. Then arms found their way into a sleeper hold around his neck and the last thing he saw was Barry sitting up with wide eyes.

Len snatched up the gun, panting from the exertion and adrenaline. Barry looked scared, but he was holding it together so Len quickly picked the lock of his cuffs with the bent paperclip. Barry stood, wincing as he put weight on his ankle, but Len didn't offer him any assistance as they started to walk. He would need his full range of movement to get them outside. Then he could lean on him. For now, he'd have to grit his teeth and deal with the pain, which for the moment was weirdly grounding. He motioned for Barry to follow. They made their way quickly through the abandoned building, both keeping a sharp eye out for Mardon. Barry had latched onto the hem of Len's shirt with his hand, and it was jarring when he was suddenly ripped away.

"Where do you think you're going?" 

Len spun and pointed the gun at Mardon who had an arm around Barry's throat and his other hand pressing a knife to the tender skin over his jugular.

"We're leaving," Len said, his tone icy and sure. 

"You can leave if you want, but he has to stay," Mardon replied, looking at Barry. "Time's up."

"You know who I am and you know I _will_ shoot you." Len took a step forward. "Let him go."

"No. West has to pay for what he did to my brother," Mardon hissed, digging the knife harder into Barry's neck. The clock was ticking. He knew he cops were coming, he had seen the unmarked vehicle with two antenna circle the building three times today. He had already wasted enough time trying to find them after finding the freezer empty and Nimbus unconscious.

"Your brother got in a shootout with _armed cops_! He made his choice," Len said, stepping forward. "Let. Him. Go. Then you can be on your merry way."

"Put down the knife!" 

Len could count this on the very short list of occasions he was happy to hear law enforcement. He was exhausted, and Barry had been breathing weird since last night, and they needed the backup. 

"Get back! All of you!" Mardon shouted, whirling on the group of officers. Singh had his weapon drawn like the rest of them, conjuring memories for Len. "Where's Joseph West?"

"Let Barry go and you can talk to Joe," Singh offered. Mardon scowled.

"He's supposed to be here!"

"Looks like he knew your plan," Len said. "You wanted to kill Barry in front of him, didn't you?"

"I'll settle for plan B if I must," Mardon sneered. "Either Joe West is here in five minutes or I slit his throat."

"Kill him and you die," Singh countered. "Drop the knife and back away."

"Alright!" Mardon pulled the knife away from Barry's skin. "You win."

Barry met Len's eyes.

Mardon swung the knife down and stabbed it into Barry's side and pushed him towards the officers. Barry's world exploded into pain, hands catching him, touching him,  _stop touching him,_ he wanted to go home, he just wanted to go home-

"Snart, put it down! If you-never see-prison-Barry-" Singh's voice faded in and out over the rushing water sound in Barry's ears.

Len. Len was pointing a gun. He looked so angry. Then everything went black.

* * *

Barry was either the luckiest bastard that ever lived or he had a guardian angel, Mick decided. The damage was fixed, no major organs were irreparably damaged. There was even some kind of fundraising webpage for his medical expenses, as if the city wasn't going to pay for their most visible, beloved citizen. It had been quite the story in the news when Barry was found. What they didn't write about was the way Singh almost had officers bodily restrain Joe West from joining the quick rescue mission. Len was being regarded as a hero, and if it didn't make Lisa smile he would have thrown away the sappy article about Leonard Snart, the man who was kidnapped for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. The unsung hero of giving people with records second chances as staff at his successful restaurant. Sentimental, even if it was technically true.

It was good for business though.

Still, he could tell that Len was struggling. Barry had been in surgery for hours and he had been forced to go to the station after a quick check up to give his statement. It killed him not to be there, and it killed him more that even when Barry was in recovery, he wasn't awake. So Len went back to work.

There was a small party for him, he smiled at the right times and laughed at the right jokes and ate the food that Mick cooked for him. It was only after Mick and Lisa finished shooing everyone else out that Len collapsed into one of his specially chosen bar stools and broke. Lisa grabbed him in a hug and Mick stood behind him with his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I wanted to kill him," Len whispered. "I _wanted_ to kill him. I've done worse before, but I never _wanted_ to."

"But you didn't," Mick pointed out firmly. "You didn't do it."

"Only because Barry was there," Len said, thinking back to how he had almost pulled the trigger. "He...I...I wanted to be the person he thinks I am."

Lisa didn't bother telling him that he already was. When Len was like this, there was no getting through to him until it passed. For now, they could just be there for him. Lisa would move in for a few days, and Mick would crash on the couch for at least one night and grumble about not being tired so he could stay awake with Len watching TV until the latter fell asleep. Len never talked about what he had to do to get out of his old life, and Lisa never pried. But it had left deep scars, some visible some not. 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Barry did not wake up gently, nor did he wake up in painless bliss. He didn't remember being put under anesthesia, nor did he immediately recall why he was in the hospital. All he could feel was pain, pain in his side and his throat. He tried to move his hand, to signal anyone that he was awake and he needed help but he couldn't seem to remember how to move his muscles. There was a suddenly barking that led to a flurry of motion and loud voices. Barry wondered why there was a dog here. Where was here? His eyes wouldn't focus and his eyelids kept slipping closed.

"Good morning, Barry," A motherly voice said. "How are you feeling?"

Barry tried to respond _Why is there a dog?_  but he was pretty sure it came out as garbled nonsense. His side felt like it was on fire. Was he on fire? He hoped he wasn't on fire.

"No, you aren't on fire." That voice he knew. Who was that? It was a man. "You've got over fifty stitches in your side."

"I'm going to give you something for the pain, okay?" The same female voice said. The male voice thanked her and called her doctor.

She had a nice doctor voice.

"Thank you, Barry. That's very nice of you to say."

Oh. He said that out loud. He was so thirsty. A straw pushed against his lips. He took a few sips, enough for the burn in his throat to subside but it was hard to get his brain to focus on drinking more.

"Better, Bear?" The male voice asked. Barry managed to force his neck to turn his head to look. A black man (of course, hat was Joe! He knew Joe.) was standing next to his bed with another man standing in the corner behind him. It was like he was hiding, his face turned away, and his vision was swimming. It did feel better, he wasn't on fire anymore. 

"Let's take a look," The doctor lady said. He felt gentle hands prodding and poking and checking eyes and other doctor stuff. His doctor looked nice. She had pretty brown hair pulled back into a bun and brown eyes. But no one had answered him. Why was there a dog?

"Bear, it's Irwin," Joe said, a smile on his face. He was smiling, he shouldn't be crying. "We thought you'd like to see him when you woke up."

Irwin. Of course. He knows Irwin. Irwin makes him feel better. Irwin is his best friend. Barry said the name, and heard an answering bark. His hand drifted to the edge of the bed, but he couldn't get it over the edge. He wanted to pet his dog. Joe carefully helped Irwin stand on his hind legs so his front paws could rest on the edge of the hospital bed, and grasped Barry's hand so he could guide it to pet Irwin's head. Barry felt calmed, Irwin was so soft. He made sure to tell Irwin how soft he was. Something wet brushed his hand. Irwin had licked him. He hoped it was Irwin. What is Irwin? The man in the corner laughed, he was sure it was the man in the corner laughing. Why did he sound sad? 

"Barry, do you remember what happened?" His doctor asked. He knew she had said her name, he just hadn't grasped it. He thought hard. He remembered...

"Len!" Barry tried to sit up. Well, he knew he tried but really he couldn't gather the coordination. "Where's my Len?"

"He's right here, Bear. Len-stop skulking around and get over here." The man in the corner stepped closer, and once he was close enough for Barry's blurry vision to focus, his features revealed themselves as Len.

"You're here!" Barry said, a dopey smile on his face. "You're here."

"Yeah, I'm here," Len answered, a small smile playing on his lips. Barry sighed happily and sank further into the pillows. He twitched his fingers and a cool hand slid into his. It so much colder than Joe's hand. Len had cold hands.

Joe smothered a sigh of relief. At least for now, Snart wasn't on the long list of Barry's triggers that had probably grown with this latest incident. It was bad enough that the footage of his beatings was on the internet forever. He had almost snapped when he interrogated Len at his bar that morning to get an idea of possible new triggers, but Iris had intervened before he got too heated. He had yet to speak with Mardon, but he was aware that if Len hadn't gotten them out of the freezer when he did, Mardon would have killed them long before backup arrived. Barry would have been dead. He would have been dead and it would have been Joe's fault. Irwin, having gone back to sitting at Joe's side, bumped his leg with his head as if to break him out of his thoughts.

"You should get some sleep, kid," Len was saying. He brushed a hand through Barry's hair. Barry nodded sagely.

"It's been a long day." 

He had been awake for all of twenty minutes. Len didn't tell him that, just pet his hair until he fell asleep, the way he had wanted to when they were trapped in the freezer and Barry was clinging to him for comfort. The doctor had told Joe, who told Len, that because of the repeated panic attacks Barry had experienced his body was exhausted and he would need more time to recuperate from his injuries than he would normally. Future panic attacks would probably be more frequent for awhile, and she had suggested that Barry go back to therapy more often. Irwin, of course, was cleared to be in the room whenever someone else was there to take care of him and Barry had clearance for near-round the clock visitors. Barry had actually opened his eyes a few times before waking fully, and the worst was when he woke and just started sobbing until he fell back under. Joe had been surprised when Len showed up, but hadn't sent him away. He owed him so much, and Len seemed to  _need_ to be there. He needed to make sure Barry was really okay to make the jittery feeling go away. 

A "quick visit" had turned into "coffee with Joe and Iris" into "waiting with Joe for Barry to wake up because Iris had to stop missing work so she could write a followup to the Barry Allen story".

What the hell.

"You realize that Iris is going to plan a huge thing when Barry can walk on his own again, but I was thinking that maybe before that you could bring your sister and Mr. Rory over for a quiet night when Barry gets out of the hospital," Joe said, the words coming so quickly it took a moment for Len to parse through it. 

"I have wondered if you changed that _heinous_  floral wallpaper in your dining room," Len said finally. "I don't know about Mick, but I know Lisa would love to come. She already gets coffee with your daughter every day."

Mick would probably be okay, but he was still the most suspicious of law enforcement. The fact that Mick had willingly worked with them to find Len and Barry was staggering, and he knew how much it meant to his boss. And, he cared about Barry. Len might have to have a quick conversation with Joe about Mick's tendencies, with Mick's permission.

"Yes, I know. I promised them I'd come with one day when Barry was awake. They are quite the pair," Joe remarked dryly. Len chuckled. "You raised a strong woman."

"Didn't have much to do with that," Len said distantly. Lisa was born strong, he knew that. "I just made sure she survived long enough to figure it out for herself."

Joe was quiet. He knew that Len had some issues. Who wouldn't?

"Thanks for being here," Joe said before he lost the nerve. "You didn't have to be. Barry would have understood if you needed some time to process...everything. You were in there too."

"I've had worse."

* * *

Barry woke again the next day and he was not nearly as high. He groaned as he tried to sit up and the stitches pulled. The IVs in his arms for fluids were painful and itchy when he focused on them.

"Careful, one wrong more and even the king's men won't be able to put you back together again," Iris said, helping him gently. "You've been in and out for a day or two, but the last of the really good stuff has worn off."

"I can tell," Barry groused. "Can I have some water?"

"Yeah, hold on." Iris poured him a cup of water from a pitcher on the table next to the bed. "Here, drink it slowly."

Barry did so, wincing at the lingering soreness in his throat.

"Why does my throat hurt? Was I intubated?" Barry asked, a grain of horror at the idea of being gagged settling in his stomach. He hadn't even been conscious. Iris nodded.

"You were pretty messed up for a while but the doctor said you'll make a full recovery in time."

Barry nodded and drank some more water. He was just trying to process everything that had happened. His stomach growled loudly. From there, it was another check up, questions, more questions, he was allowed to have some jello and some warm broth and more water, then it was time for his bandage to be changed.

He froze up when the gown was pulled aside and he saw what looked like a slug-mummy eating his torso. He swallowed, trembling so hard the railings of his bed rattled. Irwin jumped up to put his front paws on the bed so he could distract Barry with licks and nuzzles. Barry focused on burying his face in the fur between Irwin's ears while Iris stood to the side so he wouldn't be overwhelmed by the umber of hands touching him. The nurse that changed the bandage was clinical and efficient, talking him through what she was doing so he wouldn't spook and keeping her voice calm and nonjudgmental. When she was done, she fetched him a clean gown because his was damp with sweat and left him alone with Iris to change. Iris helped Barry silently. It was an unspoken rule that if Barry needed her help getting dressed, she minimized his naked vulnerability by not talking. There was a time when she used to think they'd grow up and get married, but it just wasn't meant to be. Once they were alone and Barry was dressed and under his blanket, he relaxed.

"Was Len here? I think I remember that Len was here and I said weird things," Barry asked, blushing at what he could remember. Had he really asked if he was on fire?

"He wanted to be there there when you woke up again. You woke up three times before that but only for a few minutes tops," Iris said. "You think what you said to him was bad? You should have heard what you said the first time to me."

"Oh god, I remember something about wanting to eat your chocolate skin," Barry groaned after trying hard to recall. Iris giggled. "What else?"

"You don't want to know."

A warm feeling had started spreading through Barry's chest at the confirmation that Len had been there. He wondered when he'd be coming back. It was nice to know he hadn't been scared away because what had happened. Now he could only hope that the sight of Len, or the sound of his voice, or the feel of his hands on his hair wouldn't trigger an attack down the road. He didn't want to associate Len with anything other than the island of safety he had provided. On the floor by the bed, Irwin rested his head on his paws. When it was apparent that he had expended his energy and needed sleep, the fear of nightmares crept in. Barry usually slept with Irwin up on the bed for easy access if he needed to be woken up, but there wasn't enough room to maneuver without risking his stitches and the doctor probably didn't want a dog putting weight on him. Iris helped him brainstorm, and then she moved another chair close to the bed and had Irwin hop up onto it so he could reach Barry in case he had nightmares.

Late that night, with Joe sleeping on a cot next to his, Barry woke to a racing pulse and a cold nose on his face. Irwin stared down at him, letting Barry pet him until he was calm enough to go back to sleep. Then the ever faithful canine resumed his nightly watch.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len starts to see the ripple effect of his interactions with Barry and Irwin.

Len wasn't prepared for the level of attention his bar was getting in the days following his rescue. There was a small pile of candles and wilting flowers and toys that had built up on the sidewalk outside, of which Lisa had selected several expensive soy candles to take home. Notes and cards and little mementos were strewn about as well, and every time Hartley started to make headway in getting it cleaned up, a few more people would drop stuff off before heading inside to eat. Mick had made an offhand comment about a candlelight vigil that had happened downtown, and Len realized that nobody had expected them to make it out alive. Candlelight vigils and memorials on the sidewalk aren't for people that are expected to live. 

He even filled a small box with the dog toys that had been scattered at the memorial after the news stations broadcast a picture of Barry with Irwin in his service vest. Len planned to drop them off at the local shelter later. Maybe he should have a fundraiser for them at Rogues. He didn't want to waste this rare opportunity of good publicity.

Barry had been permanently awake for two days, and Len had yet to visit him again though he texted him often when he had the time. He was needed back at his post behind the bar mixing drinks. Lisa had almost chased him out, but he needed to work. He needed to go back to some semblance of a routine before he lost it. He no longer went back upstairs during the day, partially because the added business made two bartenders necessary even during the lunch rush, but mostly because now everyone wanted to talk to him. He hated talking to strangers on a good day, and now there were hundreds of people that wanted to shake his hand and congratulate him and probe for details. It was too much. It was that afternoon that Len met Sara.

A young girl walked in with her family, her parents and an older brother, and they were seated at a booth. She looked to be maybe nine or ten years old. Lisa was their server, and they were model customers. Nothing would have set them apart aside from the girl's young age if it weren't for the large golden retriever wearing a service dog harness with a patch that said "Seizure Alert Dog". More than used to Irwin, Len's staff continued with business as usual and Lisa offered to give them water for the dog. Lisa called him over when she brought them the check.

"This little lady has something she'd like to say to you," Lisa said, indicating the girl. "Take your time, and have a great day."

Len turned to her as Lisa walked away and took in the sight of the small girl. The golden retriever at her feet ignored him, content to stare up at his girl.

"Thank you for letting Sampson sit with me," She said, her voice childish and clear and so like Lisa's at that age. Len inclined his head.

"Of course. He's part of your family."

"That last place we went to didn't see it that way," The father said, traces of barely veiled anger in his voice. "The manager told us they had no problem with us, but the dog had to wait outside. We almost went home and then my wife remembered the article about your establishment."

He was referring to the column about service dogs that Iris had written about Rogues before they were kidnapped. He hadn't thought anyone would even remember that in the wake of what had happened afterward.

"Well he isn't the first service animal we've had in. My...friend, has a dog named Irwin," Len said. The little girl beamed up at him.

"Sampson helps me when I get sick and fall over!"

"Epilepsy," The mother explained, and Len nodded. It felt a little awkward to be standing before a family that was obviously well-off enough to eat at nicer places, but they seemed plenty at ease.

"Are you the guy from the news? The one that was-" The father cut himself off, glancing at his children. "The Allen story, right?"

"That's me," Len admitted. "We're trying to keep a low profile as much as possible."

"I understand. Sara here was just dying to talk to the owner so she could say thank you," The father said. "I do as well. Thank you." Len shook his hand, and then the mother's, and when the children copied their parents he also shook their hands. 

"I need to get back to work," Len said, pointing over his shoulder. "But you and Sampson are always welcome here, Sara."

Lisa was waiting for him at the bar when he walked back.

"That was so cute!" She cooed. Len scowled at her, but it was definitely tempered by the little smile he couldn't quite force down.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**To Len: im so booooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrred**

**To Barry: Not bored enough to take the time to type properly.**

**To Len: u sound so old u old man**

**To Barry: You sound high. What are you doing?**

**To Len: Trying to relax. My bandage will be changed in an hour.**

**To Barry: How's Irwin? Chewing on any furniture?**

**To Len: No! He's a good boy! And Joe took him for a walk.  
** **To Len: I can't stay here anymore. The walls are closing in. Lisa said she'd visit today though.**

**To Barry: I know, she's bringing you some cookies so you don't starve from lack of proper soul food.  
To Barry: When do you get out?**

**To Len: Friday.  
** **To Len: Friday.  
** **To Len: Gotta get down on Friday**

**To Barry: I'm going to ignore that last text in the interest of preserving our friendship.**

**To Len: Everybody's looking forward to the weekend weekend**

**To Barry: No.**

**To Len: But you did get the reference so... ;)**

**To Barry: I'm telling Lisa not to sneak you any cookies today.**

**To Len: You wouldn't.**

**To Barry: I would.**

**To Len: That's cold, old man.**

**To Barry: No cookies for you.**

**To Len: Like she'll listen to you.**

 

**To Barry: I'm still bringing you cookies.**

**To Lisa: My hero  :)**

* * *

 

There was something very unnerving about the way Lisa was looking at him, Joe decided. She was obviously very aware of her looks, and she had already fended off the amorous advances of the barista with more tact than he would have expected from someone with eyeliner that sharp. He knew what makeup that was applied that carefully meant. Lisa Snart was a woman to be feared before she was to be understood.

"So, tell me how Barry's doing," Lisa said, taking a sip from her cinnamon latte. "I've been so busy making sure my brother doesn't kick out another reporter that I haven't had time to visit."

"Well, he's going home on Friday, but he needs to take it easy for a few weeks so he'll be living with me until he's cleared to go back to work," Joe replied, touched by the genuine smile Lisa flashed. It was so different from the razor-sharp smirk he remembered from so long ago. "He's already trying to argue with me about how long that will take, so I take that as a good sign."

"Lisa was just telling me that Len was hoping he could visit soon," Iris said. "What do you think, dad?"

Joe sighed.

"He seems fine with texting. He likes hearing about Len's day, I think it makes him feel like the world outside hasn't changed," Joe said. "But we never know what the triggers are going to be. If the sight of Len's face will now be associated with Mardon, if he'll be able to go into small spaces again, if going to Rogues will trigger memories of the abduction. Hell, he might have trouble getting ice cream out of the freezer because he might now associate _all_ freezers with _that_ freezer. I just don't want to see another person he cares about ripped away because of something he can't control."

"Maybe he could try calling Barry before seeing him in person?" Iris suggested. "You know, ease him into it."

"That might work," Joe agreed. "He wants to see him soon though."

Lisa looked thoughtful, slowly sipping her coffee for something to do while Iris and Joe switched topics to talk about her job and the extra attention she was receiving. Lisa knew that as much as it would break Len's heart to do so, he would leave Barry alone if that's what was best. Barry had somehow wormed his way under the armor that Len wore like a second skin in less than a year, something that had taken Mick close to a decade. When it was time for Iris and Joe to get back to work, Lisa rode her motorcycle to the hospital. Len had wanted to come with her, but she figured maybe it would be better to see Barry alone first in case she needed to warn Len about his condition. When she strode into his room, he smiled brightly at her.

"Your nurse was not impressed by my outfit," Lisa said, somehow flopping into the chair gracefully. Barry took in her near-full leather ensemble and watched her place the heavy motorcycle helmet on the other chair.

"I am," He said. Lisa's smile grew more genuine and she reached out to brush a few stray hairs out of Barry's face. His hair was getting a little longer than he generally preferred, mostly because he meant to get it cut right before the whole incident happened and hadn't had a chance since.

"You need a spa day, sweetie," She said, patting the side of his face after she finished with his hair. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Barry said, shrugging. "I want to get out of here though. Hospitals give me the creeps."

Lisa nodded, and then dug into her purse for the baggy that held two peanut butter oatmeal cookies studded with m&m's.

"Mick made these for you. He said he still wants your recipe for the mint ones though."

Barry took the bag with reverent hands and took one out to eat. He offered the other to Lisa, but she waved him off with assurances that Mick had made a double batch already the night before when he couldn't sleep.

"So what's happening with Len?" Barry asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Lisa didn't call him out on his blush, but she was concerned at the waver in his voice.

"He's working a lot," Lisa said. "Though he texts a lot on the job."

"Oh. Sorry?" 

"Don't worry, I think it keeps him sane. He doesn't really like talking to strangers and now at least one blogger shows up for an ambush interview every day. I had to ask the last one very nicely to leave when he wouldn't stop trying to get around the bar." Lisa inspected her perfect nails. "His wallet somehow ended up disappearing. Can you believe it?"

"Len has to stop doing that."

"Only if he gets caught," Lisa smirked. "He'll teach you how to do it, if you ask nicely."

"Oh, um...I guess I just don't want to get that...close to strangers," Barry mumbled. Lisa nodded.

"It's probably too late anyways. You're too old. Yes, too old for the training."

Barry giggled.

"I've never heard you make a Star Wars reference before. I didn't think it was your thing," He said, picking at the blanket absently. Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Oh my god, even if it wasn't Lenny watched those damn movies so many times I would have them memorized anyways."

"Your brother is such a nerd," Barry said. Lisa laughed. 

"Because you aren't?"

"Hey, I am a nerd inside _and_ out. I live it," Barry said mock-defensively. "Len can pass as normal in society."

"You and I have very different definitions of normal," Lisa replied. "So. When are you coming back? Mick wants to make you some real food because, and I quote, hospital food is cruel and unusual punishment."

Barry seemed to deflate a little.

"I don't know. When I can move without risking my stitches?" He said, avoiding her eyes. It didn't take years of learning to read microexpressions to tell that Barry was scared, but not of her. Irwin was watching him intently, but made no move to go to him. "I just...it was the one place I felt safe, and I was taken in the parking lot. I might not feel safe there anymore."

"What can we do?" Lisa asked, gently placing her hand over his. "What can we do to make you feel safe?"

"I don't know," Barry admitted. "I never know."

Lisa was silent for a moment but forced herself to be cheerful again. Barry looked so helpless.

"so, did Lenny tell you about Sarah and Sampson?"

"Um, who?" Barry asked, confused by the topic change.

"You should call him tonight and ask. I'm forcing him to take a night off before he snaps and punches the next person that tells him how happy they are that he's okay," Lisa said dryly. Len wasn't used to being the center of positive attention and he was having a hard time dealing with it. And everyone wanted touch him. Shake his hand, pat him on the back, a few ambitious souls had even tried hugging him.

"Oh. He's not enjoying being a hero?"

"He doesn't want to be _their_ hero," Lisa said pointedly. Barry blushed.

"I'll call him tonight."

* * *

 Len was trying to relax. He had the night off thanks to Shawna volunteering to take his shift and he knew he should be doing something besides worrying about how his business was being run. He was just flipping aimlessly through Netflix again when his phone started to ring. He looked down and saw that it was Barry.

"Hello, Barry." 

 _"Hey, Len. Um...how's your night going? Lisa said you were taking a night off."_ The voice on the other side of the line sounded nervous, and even a little scared. Still, Len took it as a good sign that Barry hadn't immediately reacted to the sound of his voice.

"Not by choice," Len said. "She thinks I'm too stressed to be around the public. Said I need to take a little time to relax."

_"Well, it's not the worst idea, is it?"_

Len smiled.

"No, I suppose not. How are you?"

_"Oh, you know, bored out of my mind and starving for something that isn't hospital food. Irwin's keeping me company though. I guess the hospital decided he won't impede the doctors or something, so he can stay even if it's just me."_

"Lisa said you might be calling."

_"She said I should ask about Sarah and Sampson? Who are they?"_

Len told him the story about meeting the family, and why they were eating in his restaurant in the first place. Barry expressed his frustration at the lack of understanding when it came to the rights of those with service dogs, and Len teased him about pulling a stitch. It was...nice. The longer they talked, the more confident Barry sounded and the less he was waiting for a panic attack.

_"I've been refused service before with Irwin. Someone even tried to call the cops on me when I was shopping at Target. That...did not go over well."_

"I can imagine," Len said, chuckling softly. "Detective West said I could bring Mick and Lisa over your house for a little get together when you're out. The opportunity to be an invited guest in a cop's home is too good to pass up. Lisa's game, Mick may be harder to convince. He'd have to let his little minions run the kitchen without him."

_"He's dedicated."_

"He's a dictator. But he's written some very nice recommendation letters for the ones that move on. Anyone that can work under Mick can make it anywhere."

It was true. Mick could get reservations anytime at several high class restaurants if he was so inclined. Which he usually wasn't. But Lisa could be very persuasive on her birthday.

_"I have to go, the pain meds are kicking in. But can I call you tomorrow?"_

"Sure, kid."

" _Goodnight, Len."_

"Goodnight, Barry."


	11. Chapter 11

Barry couldn't help but smile at the memories of sick days and staying home from school that were dredged up by the way Joe was fussing over him like it was his first day back from the hospital. Which it wasn’t. He had been home for a week, and for an entire week Joe had been close to _insufferably_ helpful. Now, after a week of paid leave, Joe was going stir crazy and he needed to go back to work before they both lost their minds. Barry had experienced a few panic attacks the first nights, when he was tired and vulnerable and his pain level was still high. But what concerned Joe was that Barry needed to start living his life again if they were ever to figure out the extent of the damage and he, frankly, wasn't ready to find out. 

Irwin was curled up on the ground in front the sofa where Barry could easily pet him. Even the dog seemed amused by Joe's near-constant trips with soup and water and more blankets and then less blankets and any other excuse Joe could think of to keep him from having to use the crutch for his ankle. It was a grade two sprain, and would also take time to heal, and though he could hobble around fine on his own well enough (even though Joe wouldn’t allow him to so much as stand and adjust his own blankets without using a crutch).

"Joe, I'm recovering from a stab wound, not the flu," Barry said, fond exasperation in his voice. Joe paused from setting down the mug of tea. "Please no more tea."

"I know, kid, I know. I'm just...trying to stay busy," Joe said, sitting down on the other chair. "How do you feel?"

"I'm a little achy but I can manage," Barry said. It was true, he was still feeling some pain and pulling when he moved, but he had asked his doctors to wean him off the hard stuff as soon as they were comfortable. He didn't like the way the pain killers made him feel.

"Well your next antibiotics should be in...about two hours," Joe said, checking his watch. "I have to go to work for a few hours. You'd think I'd be entitled to a few more days of leave."

"I'll be fine," Barry reassured him, not acknowledging that Joe actually had unlimited paid leave if he wanted it. He knew Joe felt guilty about having to leave to him alone in the house, but he had already taken several days off to stay with him in the hospital and Singh had agreed to let him work part-time for a week. Besides, Barry had Irwin and everything he could possibly need was within easy reach anyways. 

"Alright. I will be home by three at the very latest, Iris is going to call and check in with you around ten, you can call if you need anything, and  _ I can't believe I'm saying this _ , but _Mick Rory the retired convict_ is bringing you lunch around noon. Are you sure you're okay? I can stay home, I'll call in," Joe said, more to reassure himself that Barry was going to be okay. His wounds had been healing well, he hadn't shown too many signs of regressing back into an anxious, separation-anxiety state, and as long as he took it easy the doctor said he could be home. He called Len every night, and texted his friends almost constantly. A few reporters had shown up only to be swiftly chased away enough times by officers that they stopped coming. Still, he hated leaving, not knowing if Barry really would be okay alone. 

"We talked about this, Joe. You have to let me be independent unless I call, right?" Barry wanted to laugh at the annoyed expression on Joe's face.  "Seriously, I'll be fine. You know how this works. I can't let myself regress."

"Yeah I know. But you better check in every hour."

"What if I'm taking a nap?" Barry asked. He didn't want Joe to worry.

"Set an alarm."

"Just go already. I have Netflix, I have my speed dial babysitters. Irwin is ready to go. I'll be fine," Barry insisted. Joe finally relented and ruffled his hair before heading out the door. As soon as he was gone, Barry started his Netflix marathon of the new series Voltron. He knew some people would laugh at him, but he liked cartoons. They made him feel weirdly safe, bringing back memories of waking up early on Saturday mornings and eating Fruit Loops with his dad, and then later, with Joe and Iris and watching the colorful shows. Two episodes in, Barry texted Joe and told him everything was still fine. He texted again a little while later to inform Joe and Iris that he had taken his antibiotics and drank another mug of tea. 

Mick arrived a little after 12:20, and called ahead to make sure that Barry knew he was coming and wouldn’t be startled by the knock on the front door. He could just pick the lock, but _Len_ had forbidden him from breaking into the West house for non-life or death situations. Barry made his way over to the door using his crutch with Irwin by his side, and let the large man inside.

“Jesus, kid, I didn't know if was possible to get any scrawnier,” Mick said in lieu of a traditional greeting. Barry couldn’t help but chuckle. It was good to see his friend. Irwin, still on duty, ignored Mick after a quick glance that ascertained his non-threat status.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way like this. I could have made something to eat myself,” Barry said as he led the man back to his den (the living room) and indicated that Mick should sit too. He did, but on the chair next to the sofa to give Barry some space. Mick shrugged, pulling out a few styrofoam containers and handing one to Barry along with a bottle of orange soda. Barry thanked him politely, which made Mick snort.

“Couldn’t say no to your sister when she asked.”

Barry rolled his eyes. It had taken Iris awhile to convince her father that Mick Rory was a good compromise to Joe’s insistence that someone check on him during the day _and_ Barry’s refusal to be babysat by a deputy or one of Joe’s overly-pitying friends. Though now, laden a burger and some fries (both of which he was dying for after Joe’s rigid diet restrictions), he was ready to buy something very expensive for his sister’s birthday.

“She can be very persuasive,” Barry agreed, digging into his food. He was in heaven. “And right now I am eternally thankful for that.”

They chatted amicably about the bar and the media attention and other such things for awhile, even though Mick usually wasn’t much for small talk. Barry handed him a piece of paper with the mint chocolate chip cookies recipe that Mick was so hell-bent on getting, and Mick asked where he got it. Barry’s shoulders drooped slightly, not the reaction Mick had intended and he was about to tell him to forget it when Barry started talking.

“They were actually, ah, my mom’s recipe,” Barry said, scratching the back of his neck. “She was the most amazing baker, you know? Never burned anything, always knew ways to fix mistakes in my early attempts at imitating her.”

Mick was silent as he listened to Barry describe the little wooden box that his mother used to keep the recipes she hadn’t tried yet inside, and how he had been inconsolable when he found out that Joe hadn’t saved it when he was making arrangements after his parent’s death. He had his mom’s cookbook though, the journal with the painstakingly neat handwriting that detailed the various pastries and breads and other recipes that Barry had scanned into his computer and saved.

The story hit a little too close to home for Mick, if he was being honest. But it was almost funny to see that this skinny nerd with a massive crush on Leonard Snart of all people had something in common with him.

“I know that it’s your kitchen but…” Barry said after a pause. He had trailed off after his story and sounded much sadder than before.

“I won’t change it,” Mick said, tapping the now folded paper. Barry gave him a small grateful smile, an expression that Mick rarely saw directed at himself. Usually if anyone caught his eye, if was with at least little fear. Barry noticed that Mick was fidgetting and trying to subtly look at the time.

“If you’re worried about your kitchen you can go. You’ve checked on me, I’m fine and I’m fed. You don’t have to stay on my behalf,” Barry said, holding back a giggle at the relieved look on Mick’s face. Sure, he wanted to get back to work. But he hadn’t wanted to leave without Barry’s blessing. Len would get a bug up his ass and pester him for the rest of the night and Lisa would find a creative way to mess with him when he wasn't paying attention.

"Take care of yourself kid," Mick said. He took one last look at Barry's thin appearance. "You know, if you asked, Len would be here in a flash."

Barry tried not to blush too hard.

* * *

"So how's our boy doing?" Lisa asked when she found Mick back in his kitchen. Len was at the bar and out of earshot, so Mick told her the truth about Barry's weight and injuries, and the way he looked like he hadn't been sleeping very well.

"Len needs to grow a pair and go over there himself instead of making me do it," Mick grumbled after he finished his description. It wasn't that he didn't like Barry. He did. Barry seemed like someone that he could consider a good friend some day. But Len was annoying him with his constant chatter about Barry and their phone calls, and Iris West had asked _Len_ to bring Barry lunch first to which Len had replied that no, he was _too busy_ but _Mick_ could certainly do it. Asshole.

"You know he won't. He won't make the first move, you know your brother."

Lisa pouted. 

"I'm never going to get to plan their wedding at this pace."

"And I'm going to win the bet," Mick said, snapping his apron at her before tying it around his waist. He was referring to the bet he made with Lisa after Barry was released from the hospital about how long it would take for Barry and Len to make a move on each other. He had bet three months. Lisa had bet within one month. Her time was rapidly running out.

It was at this point that Len, as if he sensed he was being talked about, walked into the kitchen and gave them both an odd, calculating look.

"Lunch rush is dying down. I'm going upstairs for a little while," Len said finally, deciding to ignore his sister's smirk. Mick muttered under his breath about Len calling his  _not-boyfriend_ , to which Len flipped him off as he climbed the stairs. Barry  _wasn't_  his boyfriend.

* * *

 

Barry carefully turned away as the last of his stitches were being removed.His phone buzzed steadily with new texts from Len, each one containing a new pun, and each was more ridiculous and stupid than the last. Irwin was actually perched on the examining table with him, which helped him a great deal to ignore the feeling of the threads being removed. He hated stitches.

Stitches reminded him of long-ago bullies that had shoved him into an opened locker door and busted his lip and forehead. They reminded him of waking up, alone and scared and hurting after his parent's car crashed into a tree. They reminded him of the never-ending amount of stitches he had needed after he was rescued from that dank, dark closet. They just...reminded him. His pale skin, untanned by the sun because he was always indoors and always wore sunscreen if he was outside, was a map of scars if one looked close enough. Which few had ever had the chance to do. When he was done and Joe was starting the car, Barry felt a burst of courage looking through the texts from Len. The older man had started sending the puns when Barry told him he was getting his stitches out, something that Barry was very touched by. It was another instance of Len showing his affection in an unusual but thoughtful way.

"Can we swing by Rogues?" Barry asked, knowing full well that Joe knew that he was really asking to see Len.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm never going to know if I can handle being in my favorite restaurant again unless I try."

And so they drove to Rogues, instead of going home. Irwin seemed to recognize the location as he was extra vigilant and pressed up against Barry's legs protectively until they reached the door. Barry had a momentary flash of fear in the parking lot, but it passed quickly. The inside of Rogues was just the same as it used to be, and Irwin gently nudged his knees when he froze inside the doorway. Len was behind the bar chatting with the other woman working there, his long delicate fingers drumming on the wooden surface. Len suddenly turned and his face brightened into a genuine, if shocked, smile. Lisa followed her brother's stare and let out an excited squeal, a sound that Barry _never_ expected to hear from her.

"Barry! Come here, let me look at you!" Lisa crossed the room in a few strides, and Barry smiled helplessly at her as Len laughed at his predicament. "Your booth is open if you want to stay for a bit."

"I, um..." Barry looked at Joe. "We have a little time."

Joe gave an uneasy glance around the room. He remembered arresting a few of the people he saw sitting at the bar and at tables, some eating and some drinking. A few families with children were there too, as well as a big framed newspaper article on the wall celebrating the Rogues bar's after Len and Barry were rescued. Nobody seemed inclined to give him any trouble and Len looked well at ease in his kingdom, so he relented and followed Barry to his booth. Irwin tucked himself in close by Barry's injured ankle after they sat down and Lisa brought over a bottle of water.

"On the house-"

"For your favorite customer, yeah, I know," Barry finished for her, smiling. "Can I actually have a Sprite today?"

"Sure, sweetie. What about you, detective?" Lisa said, easily taking Barry's change in stride.

"Water is fine, thanks." Joe accepted the menu from Lisa, noting that Barry wasn't handed one. Just how many times had his son been here? As Lisa walked away, a younger waiter came up to their table.

"Hey, Barry," He said. Barry smiled at him.

"Hey Hartley, how's the search?"

"I just wanted to tell you that...I got the scholarship. I'm going to be able to stay in school." Hartley looked very uncomfortable, but he managed to continue. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Barry replied. He knew it was hard for Hartley to admit that. Hartley was the one that Len took under his wing first when he opened Rogues. It wasn't hard to see why when Hartley's default setting was "aloof" towards anyone that hadn't gained his trust yet. Hartley scurried off to take care of his other tables as Lisa came back to take their orders. As they ate, various members of the staff made sure to say hi to Barry. Joe had to admit, he could see why Barry wanted to come here. He was more relaxed now than he had been the whole time at home.

"So this is why you come here so often," Joe teased later as he finished his burger. Iris was going to kill him if she found out he got bacon on his. Barry blushed and shrugged.

"Yeah, i like it here."

"So how do you feel?" Joe asked.

Barry shrugged. He felt fine, actually. No residual fear. No flashbacks. It was like he had never left. He didn't answer as he was interrupted by the familiar drawl of Len Snart.

"So, you just couldn't stay away, could you?" Len said, smirking down at him. "How's the ankle?"

"Healing. Joe said I need to keep using one crutch though."

"Hey, your  _doctor_ said you should keep using one crutch if it's more than a trip to the kitchen," Joe defended himself.

"Very good advice," Len agreed. Barry fake-pouted. "I was wondering if I could borrow Barry for a few minutes."

"Oh." Barry looked at Joe. "Well we said we'd meet Iris and Eddie for coffee in fifteen minutes..."

"You can stay if you want, Barr, I can pick you up on my way home," Joe said, waving Barry away. "They'll understand."

Barry nodded gratefully and they said their goodbyes before he followed Len carefully upstairs. He could have sworn he heard Mick mutter something about a bet as he walked past. When they were upstairs and facing each other the couch with Irwin seated at Barry's feet, Len suddenly couldn't find the words.

"So."

"So." Barry repeated, blushing at the intense way Len was looking at him.

"I was wondering if...if maybe you'd like to get...dinner with me," Len finally said. "Not here, somewhere else where prying eyes can't spy on us."

"Oh. Ah, sure. It'd be nice to have some memories with you that don't include you watching me break down or me awkwardly staring at you from the dining area," Barry said thoughtfully. "Not that, you know, I always stare at you. I mean, I have. But not-please feel free to step in at any time."

Len chuckled.

"Why should I?"

"You're terrible," Barry said. 

"My sister is going to be very pleased with herself."

"Why?" Barry asked, confused.

"Because as of right now, she just won the bet that I'd ask you out by the end of the month," Len said, smirking at him. Barry felt his temperature rising.

"So...it's a real date?" Barry asked, trying to confirm he was getting this right. Len seemed to falter, as if unsure that Barry felt the same way. 

"If you want it to be."

"Then I guess...it's later." Barry scooted a little closer.

"Later?" Len asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Do you remember what you said when I gave you that paperclip?" Barry asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. Len nodded, then _he_ was the adorably flushed one.

"I said I could kiss you."

"And I said _later_ ," Barry said. Len smiled gently at him.

"Not yet," Len said. "I want to...I want to take it slow."

"Okay," Barry said, his bright smile never faltering. "I'd like that too."

Len suddenly started laughing.

"What?"

"Mick is going to be _so pissed_."

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter about nosy sisters.

"I don't need your help picking out an outfit," Len grumbled. He was seated on his bed in front of his closet where Lisa was rummaging around for the "perfect first date outfit", whatever that was. Len didn't remember ever putting this much effort into a first date before. Lisa helpfully pointed out that he hadn't been on a _real_ date since before electricity was invented. Len scowled at her and told her to shut up, which led to her to stick her tongue out at him.

Mature.

"Don't pout, you'll get wrinkles. More wrinkles," Lisa said, grinning slyly at him over her shoulder.

"Thanks for that, _sis."_

"Where are they..." Lisa was talking to herself as she unceremoniously dug around his neatly hanging shirts. "Where...ah, here we go. Wear these, and this, and...yup, this."

"I'm not wearing that," Len protested. "I'll stand out like a sore thumb."

"Or...you could just take my advice and bring him somewhere _fancy_ and expensive and impressive," Lisa said, holding the pants out to him. Len rolled his eyes. "Mick said he'd make a call!"

"I said no."

"But _Lenny,"_ Lisa whined. 

"I'm forty-three. I'll pick out my _own_ clothes and plan my _own_ dates! Now get out, your shift starts in ten minutes," Len said, gently herding her out of his bedroom despite her protests.

"Mick agrees with me..." Lisa muttered as she walked back downstairs. " _Jerk_."

 "Train wreck," Len called after her. The thought occurred to him that maybe Lisa was right. Barry was not some guy he picked up in a seedy bar. Maybe he should take him somewhere fancy. Then again, he was pretty sure being somewhere expensive would just make Barry nervous and that was the last thing that he wanted to cause. He wanted to show Barry a good, laid back time.

Len sighed, and went back to his room to examine the various outfits Lisa had laid for him and then discarded.

What _was_ he going to wear?

* * *

" _Iris!_ I have nothing to wear!" Barry called down the stairs. Moments later heavy steps could heard before Iris burst into his room. "Help."

"Alright, go sit down, relax and I'll take a look. It's not too late to go shopping," Iris said calmly. Barry nodded gratefully and went to perch on the edge of his bed. Iris looked at him speculatively. "What's the plan for this date?"

"We're going to Slice of Heaven Pizzeria, and then maybe for a walk," Barry said. "Not fancy, but Len said they have the best pizza in the city."

"Ooh I've heard of that place. Alright, so...a darker color shirt in case you spill," Iris said. It wasn't an insult, Barry did tend to get over excited and drip pizza sauce on himself. "And...definitely jeans, this is a casual place. Okay...here we go."

Iris pulled out a dark red sweater and a matching plaid shirt to wear under it, as well as a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that Barry knew made his ass look good because he always got hit on when he wore them. It was simple, but very much him. It was something that he would wear on a normal day if he wanted to look nice but not stand out.

"Wear your converse and you'll be good to go," Iris said, booping his nose with her finger. "You're going to be fine and there will definitely be another date. He asked you out first, so you already know he's interested."

"I know...it's just..." Barry looked down at his hands where they were folded in his lap. Iris sat down next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "We're going on this date, and it's exactly what I've wanted since the day we met. But...how do you go from a life or death kidnapping situation to first date? I feel like we've kind of _skipped_ the part of a first date where we awkwardly try to put our best foot forward."

"It's a weird situation, this whole thing," Iris agreed. "Then again, you don't have to feel like you need to hide anything."

Barry considered this.

"I guess so. He's seen me at my worst and still came back," Barry thought aloud. "We sort of...shared a moment, in the freezer."

"See? Even in the midst of an armed kidnapping you too couldn't stop flirting," Iris teased. Barry nudged her with his shoulder. "Come on, you have another whole day to obsessively fret over every detail. It's time for family dinner and Joe is getting antsy."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Visit or ask questions at http://grimm-fairy.tumblr.com/
> 
>  


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